J.O. Dickingson

The Chosen One From Nongkhai

Prologue

Chapter One
The Choosing

The Tiger of the Jungle was a large man, both in height and girth, with an expansive chest and even more expansive stomach. Standing a hand taller than the average man, he had been at one time strong and muscular, more a warrior than he was a noble, who could wield a two-handed broadsword all afternoon without his arms tiring of the weight, and who pinned the best summoro wrestlers to the mat with barely breaking into a sweat. Now his muscles had turned to fat. His broad chest, once so firm that a man could break a fire-hardened brick on it, now jiggled when he laughed like the sagging breasts of an old woman. Forearms and thighs that once bulged with muscle were now heavy with fat and flapped like the wattle of a turkey when he walked. His body was smooth and hairless, like most of his countrymen, and he shaved the hair on his head to leave only a topknot, which was braided and coiled on the back of his scalp and held in place by a large jewelled pin.

He had allowed his body to succumb to the pleasures that came with age and position, but that same age and position had honed an already sharp mind, and having the leisure to pursue his interests, he had sought the knowledge of the wisest men in the land, men skilled in the arts and the sciences, in military strategy, and in governing. Lord Phanomyong was a powerful man, not because of his inheritance, but because he knew knowledge was ultimate power. He was shrewd, but also like most men of power, he was proud and self-serving, and he was as renown for his quick temper as he was for his swift justice, and his delight in good food and young boys was as well known as his bloodlust on the battlefield.

And so it was when he rode into the tiny village of Nongkhai on the sixteenth day of the month of Tasàad and announced to the village headman and the village priest that he had come to select a Chosen One, that he was greeted with great respect and with great sadness. To provide the Lord with a Chosen One was a great honour, but it was also the greatest sacrifice the gods could demand that a village and a family make. Word was quickly spread throughout the village and the rice paddies, and the people of Nongkhai brought forth their young sons and lined them up in the village wat before the shrine to Kai, the village god of agriculture and virility.

Naked three-year-old toddlers who had no idea what was happening, eight-year-old boys in loin cloths who had been down at the river looking for frogs, and thirteen-year-olds only months or weeks away from Khawrianphukta, the Coming of Age Ceremony when they would be declared men and exempted from the Selection, stood side by side in the muddy compound as a light rain began to fall.

Lord Phanomyong slowly walked before the row of forty-eight boys, every boy who was of choosing age in the village. As he paused to study one and then another more closely than the others, the adults of the village held their breath, the parents of the boy being examined guiltily praying that their child not be the Chosen One even though to be chosen was an honour and a sign of blessing from the gods. The other parents just as guiltily hoped that the child would be chosen, wishing no ill will toward his parents, but selfishly not wanting one of their own sons to be selected.

The youngest boys did not know who this tall, fat man inspecting them was, or why he was examining them, but they sensed the awe and the apprehension among the villagers and they knew this was a man to be respected and to be feared. The older boys knew of the tithe, for although the adults tried to keep it a secret to spare them the worry and fear, there were some things that were part of the culture of boyhood, and passing down the forbidden knowledge of the Selection of the Chosen One from those about to enter adulthood to those still of selectable age was one of those things.

So it was passed from boy to boy, that the Lord from Chiangmai chose periodically a fine boy who had not yet reached the Age of Coming, and took him back to his palace, where he was treated as if he were the Lord's son, given the finest of clothes and all the jewels he might want, allowed whatever he wished to eat, and waited on by servants and presented to nobles and foreign kings. At night, or whenever the Lord desired, it was the boy's duty to please him, though exactly how was uncertain and the subject of fanciful rumours for those were the things a boy learned at the Coming of Age Ceremony. One of those rumours was that the boy was expected to please his Lord as their mothers pleased their fathers, by allowing the Lord to plant his seed in his belly, through, of course, his back entryway, the only one a boy possesses. Many greeted that suggestion with giggles and the rest scoffed with disbelief, but all clenched that backdoor closed with the thought.

It was further said that was the ultimate pleasure a boy can bring a man, and when the Lord tired of that pleasure, the boy ceased being the Chosen One, and the Lord struck out from his grand palace to find another. Having brought the Lord the greatest of pleasures a man can know, the former Chosen One was meanwhile lead to the shrine of Agka, the God of Death, and ceremoniously beheaded, for having pleased the Favoured Son of the Great God Xiu, it would not be fitting that a lesser man know the same pleasure as his Lord.

Such must have been the fate of the Chosen One from Kaing'hi, for Lord Boroma Phanomyong was at this moment seeking out the most beautiful boy the tiny village of Nongkhai had to offer. Beauty, as defined by Lord Phanomyong, depended on his mood, and like his mood, was as unpredictable as the fate of men. The boy had, of course, to be fair of face and healthy of body, a boy who had at least some wit about him, and a boy who would know his place. Sometimes the Chosen One was an innocent of three, at other times a sultry thirteen-year-old. Sometimes he was slender, at other times plump. It depended on the gods, and on Lord Phanomyong.

Now one might ask why the villagers simply did not hide their finest young men in the jungles, or dress them in skirts and send them out to the rice paddies disguised as girls. To ask would be because one is a foreigner and ignorant of the way of the people in the Land of the Tiger Eye. Which parent does not think his son to be the finest in the village? When the Lord arrived and there were no young men to be found, would it not be suspicious? Besides, what parent is going to silently allow another to hide his son who might be chosen over his own? Legends tell of attempts to avoid being Chosen, from disfiguring the face of a boy thought to be too beautiful, to hiding sons in the jungles, but always the parents were found out, and punished by death along with all their relatives, and the son they were trying to protect was sent to the border to bring pleasure to the soldiers who had been away from their wives too long. In the end, the tithe was just a boy, and making another was not that unpleasant a task.

The Lord stopped before a slim lad of average height and weight for a boy not yet in his teens, a boy dressed in thread-worn, baggy trousers spotted with mud and evidently having been brought in from the rice paddies where he'd been working. He was at that indeterminate age between ten and twelve, with a slim body that had lost its baby fat through hard work, but which had not yet developed the firmness of flesh that accompanies the first growth of genital hair nor the definition of muscle that accompanies the Age of Coming. His skin was smooth and the colour of butterscotch, his face fair, having eyes the shape of almonds and the colour of dark chocolate, and his hair was fine and thick and as black as a moonless night. He stared down at the ground respectfully like the other forty-seven boys of the village, and as the man stepped up before him, he stared at his large, sandalled feet as had the thirty-two boys before him. Unlike the other boys, he noticed the noble's toes were cramped and his ankles swollen from carrying his massive weight.

Cupping his hand under the boy's chin, the Lord raised the youngster's head and the boy looked up at him, his large almond-shaped eyes innocent but with the courage of youth, eyes that Lord Phanomyong took particular delight in. There was, however, something else, something deep in those chocolate brown eyes that spoke of smoldering lust and a confidence that were beyond his years.

"This one," Lord Phanomyong announced, and he turned and headed for his horse. The villagers sighed with relief, and the elders stepped forward cautiously to bid good travel to the Lord and to assure him he would find great delight in his Chosen One. The boy's parents and brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles cried quietly least they bring shame to their family and the wrath of the Lord who had just blessed them with the certain death of their young son, brother and nephew.

The man who saw that the orders of Lord Phanomyong were followed told the boy that from this moment forth he would be living with the Lord, and asked if there was anything that he wished to bring with him. In most cases in the past there was not, the boys being too poor or too young to have anything they could call their own, but he knew from experience that if a boy was able to bring a treasured object from his past, no matter how small, his future was that much easier to bear. The boy nodded and quickly running to his father's hut, he returned with a small rectangular basket of bamboo the length of the man's hand and with a width half as long.

No longer needing to travel in the dark or in incognito, the Lord and his retinue immediately headed back to Chiangmai. During the journey back, which took three days travelling from sunup to sunset, the man who had asked the boy if he wanted to bring anything with him ensured the peasant child was fed and was comfortable, but neither he nor anyone else spoke to him, and the boy did not see again the great Lord who had selected him.

Arriving at the palace, he was turned over to one of the old women in charge of the household affairs, who immediately ordered a tub and hot water. Despite his protests and embarrassment, she stripped him and bathed him. She lathered up his hair and remarked how thick and beautiful it was and that she hoped Lord Phanomyong would not have it shaved off as he sometimes had with previous Chosen Ones, and the boy's heart sank with the thought, for he loved his hair and had spent many nights on his mother's lap as she'd combed out the knots and remarked how fine and how beautiful it was.

The strange woman furiously scrubbed his armpits and cautioned him that when he was responsible for his own bathing that he was to be sure to wash them particularly well. Her hands ran deftly over his thin chest and flat stomach, and down his thighs and calves. She had him turn around and bend over and she washed his buttocks and his little pucker and lamented that it would be a shame to see such a tender and beautiful thing brutalized, but she said so softly and in her own dialect so the boy could not understand, nor anyone else, for if the Lord heard of her making such a comment he would have her tongue cut out and served to her for her evening meal. When she bade the boy to turn around and face her and he refused, she laughed and chided him and told him what had happened to him only proved that he was a real boy.

He flushed with embarrassment as she, being the stronger and an adult, turned him around and looked down at his little reed standing up straight and firm, the result of her gentle bathing and prodding of that back entryway. She told him with a sudden laugh that he might be the Lord's now, but the Lord would not be the first to feel and delight in what made him a boy. She soaped up his loins, causing his reed to jerk, much to the boy's dismay, and causing the old crone to laugh. Her fingers, boney and wrinkled with age, rubbed the soap over his smooth, hairless pubes, and she gently and carefully rolled his tiny, hairless testicles between her thumb and fingers. The boy stood helplessly as she slipped her soapy fingers about his slender erection. As she squeezed it tightly, it felt good and he hoped she would hold it awhile. She grasped it by the base and tugged on it, which felt even better than just being squeezed. Lathering up her fingers, she coated the slightly bulging head of his little cocklet with soap, which caused him to squirm. Ever so slowly and carefully, she rolled back the tight skin of his penis to reveal the swollen, purplish plum. She observed approvingly that he kept the hidden fruit clean, and again she cautioned him that he was to keep it above all other things clean for his Lord.

Rinsing his body and then drying him off with the largest and softest towel he had ever seen, she cut and filed his toenails and his fingernails and combed out his hair, which covered his ears but which was neatly tapered and trimmed in the back as was the style of his village. His coarse peasant trousers, which had been discarded, were replaced with pale blue pajamas made of silk and embroidered with delicate pink and yellow flowers, and his rough pullover shirt was replaced with a sleeveless vest, also of silk and pale blue with a floral design, and which she left open. A long, thin, silver chain of the finest links was coiled about his neck in six long loops, and the six loops were joined in the middle of his chest with a small but beautiful topaz. Finally, fine silk slippers were slipped over his feet, which felt strange as he'd spent all his life barefoot.

Properly groomed and dressed, he was presented to Lord Phanomyong, who had also bathed and changed out of his travelling clothes. He was wearing a rich satin robe of burgundy, tied at his waist with a wide pink sash. Several thick, gold necklaces hung from his fat neck, the longest having a large amethyst set in gold with six tiny red rubies equally spaced around it. The Favourite Son of Xiu was sitting cross legged on a large pile of cushions before a low, wide table of fine mahogany. Motioning for the boy to sit opposite him, he picked up an intricately carved club of black ironwood and struck the large ornate gong beside him.

Immediately servants entered carrying the most wonderful and delicious smelling plates of food the boy had ever seen and which they set on the table before them. There were plates of fine noodles as thin as a man's hair beside bowls of a creamy sauce with wild mushrooms, plates of red and green peppers stuffed with crab meat, bowls of steaming rice, a clay pot containing chicken breasts and green beans in a dark gravy, and a platter upon which sat a rabbit in an orange and raison sauce garnished with orange slices.

They bowed their heads and the Lord praised and thanked the gods for the bounty before them, and as he looked at the boy, the boy sensed that the blessing included him. The blessing done, the Lord commenced to eat. The boy respectfully waited for his Lord to finish, his empty stomach aching and his mouth watering with the mixture of unfamiliar aromas. He was surprised when the Lord gestured for him to begin eating, and he paused to be certain until the Lord gestured a second time. He did not need to be told a third time. He marvelled at the flavours his taste buds had never before experienced, and at the delicacy of the food. He had eaten well at home, but never had he eaten anything like he had that night. When he figured he could eat no more, a servant girl brought in two plates, one large and one small, and set the larger before the Lord and the smaller before him. Upon the plate sat a dessert consisting of several layers of a pastry so thin he could not imagine such a thing possible, and between each layer were fresh peach slices. Poured over the top was a dark brown, bitter sauce that he learned later was called chocolate and that he also discovered later also came in solid bars and in a sweetened form.

"What is your name, boy?" Lord Phanomyong asked after the plates had been cleared away and the Lord had been served a steaming dark brown brew with an aroma the boy had never smelled before.

"Luan, my Lord, Luan Ramayana," the boy said respectfully. "But my grandmother also calls me Khàa."

"And are you as sharp and as delightful?" Lord Phanomyong asked with a slight grin as he thought of the ginger spice the grandmother had named the boy for.

"I do not know, my Lord," the boy replied.

"Well, we will find out," the Lord smiled. "But not tonight. You have had a long journey. You are dismissed for now. We will sample your delights another night."

"Yes, my Lord," Luan said, respectfully nodding his head and getting to his feet.

Chapter Two
The Days of Admiration and Display

After he had dressed and had been approved by the elderly woman who had bathed him that morning and the day before, he was taken to the audience chamber of Lord Phanomyong. Beautiful woven tapestries and silk paintings hung on the walls, and expensive and beautiful vases and statues filled the room, dominated by the huge ornate throne at the far end. As the Lord, resplendent in his deep purple silk robe with an intricate pattern of water lilies and colourful orchids and with a large sapphire pin holding his coiled topknot in place, entered the room, the boy smiled up at him before respectfully bowing so his head was parallel to his waist, but the great man did not seem to even notice his presence.

Throughout the day, the boy would announce to the clerk who sat just outside the door whom his master would see, and he would escort the individual across the audience chamber to his Lord and then stand a respectful three steps behind the throne of the great man, ready to refill his drinking bowl with rice wine, to hand him his quill and ink, or to take the documents he'd signed, wrapped in ribbon and sealed with wax imprinted with the royal seal to the clerk who saw that they were dispensed with. Although his legs ached from standing and he wished that he could sit for even a moment, he remained at his station and performed his simple duties. This was not as hard work as working in the rice paddies, and it was at least slightly more interesting.

At first he listened carefully to what was being said and he studied the dignitaries who were given audience, but he eventually grew tired of that. He did not understand what they were talking about in most cases, and what he did understand was about treaties and commerce and other boring things that adults find interesting. They were all elderly men, all with wrinkled and spotted skin and either greatly overweight or exceedingly thin. Those of great importance he served rice wine, and those of lessor importance he served from the jug to which water had been added to the wine. Those of no importance, or who had fallen in disfavour with his Lord, were served nothing.

Most ignored him, as if he could not be seen, and the remainder openly admired him. His open vest and his shorts had been purposefully chosen to expose as much of his smooth, slender body as was decent, and the colour chosen to contrast with his soft butterscotch-coloured skin. Of course those who admired his beauty congratulated the Lord for his good fortune in having found such a remarkable boy. Some did so because they hoped by doing so they would garner the Lord's favour, but most did so because they appreciated the state of boyhood just as they appreciated the other fine things that had been selected for the audience chamber. A few expressed their congratulations with a shine of desire in their eyes, and those individuals in particular pleased Lord Phanomyong the most, for he also saw envy and covetousness in those eyes, and envy and covetousness are true expressions of reverence. He also knew he was dealing with men who were not unlike himself at least in that one aspect, and those with like interests form stronger bonds. Above all, he knew how he could garner their support in the future should he need it.

The Lord himself, in response to the covetous glance of a respected peer at the boy, or to demonstrate his lack of interest to those who were humbling themselves to regain his favour, or at times simply in boredom, glanced with admiration at his newest Chosen One himself, delighting in his beauty, and in the swelling desire in his loins which was intensified by his anticipation of the pleasure the lithe boy would bring. It was not easy being the Favoured Son of the Great God Xiu, Fierce Tiger of the Jungle, Defender of the People, and Master Over all That Is, Was, and Will Be, but there were advantages, and having his carnal desires satisfied by the most beautiful boys in the Land of the Tiger Eye was one of them.

That night he once again sent for the boy to join him in his evening repast, but this time he watched the boy more closely, noting his every move and his every expression of emotion. As the boy daintily picked up and nibbled with extended teeth the vinegared snail from the Land of the Rising Sun far to the east for the first time, the warrior-lord shared in turn his apprehension, awe and then delight as he finished off the delicacy with a boyish enthusiasm, and he recalled with fondness when such simple pleasures were new to him too. He made no attempt to hide back his laughter as the boy scooped up the pale green paste with his thin wafer and popped it in his mouth, and then with wide-eyed shock quickly tried to quell with gulps of coconut milk the fire the horseradish from the northern provinces had ignited. The boy turned red, both from the flames that he was sure were shooting from his mouth and from his embarrassment, but when he finally was able to breathe again, he giggled as he shyly looked up at his widely grinning Lord, and the two felt a warmth of pleasure pass over them.

As the boy bit into the flesh of the roasted duck and delighted in the delicate flavour, Lord Phanomyong delighted in the boy's delight. Here was a boy who like himself at that age dared to try new things, and who like himself, took delight in the physical pleasures of the body. As the boy innocently licked his greasy fingers, the Lord's thick member throbbed with desire and began to rise in response to the sight and the thoughts conjured up in his mind. He wanted to tear off the boy's clothing and throw him on the table with the rest of the tender morsels and savour for the first time his tiny, tender eggs and soft little noodle. He wanted to straddle the boy and watch as the boy's greasy lips slid down his thick, engorged sausage. Most of all, he wanted to turn the boy over and slip his sword in the boy's warm, moist, satiny sheath. Although a man of impulse, the warrior-lord held himself in check, for he knew anticipation would make the acquisition all the sweeter when the time came.

For five days Lord Phanomyong displayed and admired the boy. The youngster quickly learned his new role, and although he missed his mother and father, his brothers and sisters, and his mother's brother, he did not dwell on what had been and what he could not change, nor did he think of the morbid fate the Great God Xiu had chosen for him. He lived for the day, as most boys do, performing his duties, and amusing himself with his own boyish pastimes. In the days that followed he learned to study the men who had come to speak to his Lord, and to learn from their body language their true intentions. For the wizened and powerful nobles who treated him as if he was invisible, he would often imagine that was so and would think up fanciful and sometimes wicked things that he'd do to them. For those nobles who clearly desired him, he would thrust out his pelvis, and look at them with his smoldering, dark brown eyes, or lick his upper lip slowly and seductively while looking at them with the wide-eyed innocence of a child. He knew the men would think of him later with pleasure, and he knew the greater the covetousness in the eyes of the men the greater the pleasure of his Lord, and so he played his role eagerly, for he had been chosen to please.

With each passing day, Lord Phanomyong's desire grew. On the sixth, he was so filled with lust that his loins ached for the youth, and the image of him caressing the boy's smooth, butterscotch skin and the boy caressing him with those fine, delicate fingers was the first picture to enter his mind as he stepped into the audience chamber and was greeted by the wide, innocent smile of the boy before he bent low in humble obeisance. That image predominated his mind for the rest of the day.

The two peasants who had brought before him their dispute over who was responsible for mending the stone fence between their properties, knelt respectfully and silently before him as he stared blankly at them for so long that their legs had gone numb and their knees ached with pain. When at last he pronounced that since it was time which had caused the stone fence to fall into disrepair, they must have been good neighbours and friends for a long period, and should together repair the boundary and together gift the sprite of the stone fence for their long, cordial relationship, the two men rose weakly to their feet, awed by their Lord's wisdom and the lengthy thought that he had given their problem, and grateful for his wise counsel. They did not know that Lord Phanomyong had heard dozens of such petitions that year alone, and had made his judgement minutes after their presentation had begun. Nor would they ever know that for the past three-quarters of a candlemark Lord Phanomyong had been imagining the new delights that he had decided it was time for the Chosen One to discover, and he was not thinking of new foods.

The merchant who followed them and requested the Lord's permission to increase his import of silks from their neighbour to the north thought that the smile on his Lord's face was caused by the thoughts of the fine silks that were produced by the northern spinners. That Lord Phanomyong's smile was because his member had grown erect and was leaking that unique, clear nectar that a man produces in anticipation of the joy of planting his seed would have disappointed, but not surprised, the merchant. While he waited for his Lord to respond, he himself felt desire swell up in his loins as he admired the beautiful youth in the dark brown vest and lily-white loin cloth standing three steps behind the Lord's throne and ready to serve him with a snap of his fingers. The boy's eyes were as dark as the darkest chocolate, and he seemed to be looking right at the merchant as he slowly and seductively licked his upper lip.

When after long last the merchant was granted the trading charter provided he met certain conditions imposed so that he would not negatively affect the trade of other merchants, the man was grateful his flowing robes hid the tower of desire that had risen between his legs. What he did not know was that his Lord had seen the desire in his eyes, and had tucked away in the back of his mind for future reference the man's lust for fine young boys. It would not be that difficult a desire to fulfil for a man in Lord Phanomyong's position should he ever need the merchant to provide some other services for him on his trips to the powerful and potentially threatening empire to the north.

So the day progressed, and by the end of the day's business, Lord Phanomyong was tempted to seize the boy and take him there bent over his throne in the audience chamber, but he steeled himself against the lust drive that had kept his flesh erect and his pre-cum flowing all day. After waiting this long, partaking of the pleasures of the flesh with the boy in that manner would be crude. He would postpone such a vulgar expression of his lust for a later day when he began to grow weary of the boy and needed such bawdiness to maintain his interest.

He ordered that there be prepared a special meal for that evening, one consisting of his favourite foods, and those that he'd noticed over the past five days the boy had particularly enjoyed. So filled with lust was his mind, and so delighted with the expression of pleasure in the boy's large, chocolate brown eyes as he sunk his teeth into the tender flesh of the specially seasoned, roasted duck, with the boyish innocence and charm as he licked the meat juices from his fingers, and with his sigh of ecstasy as he closed those sensuous eyes and savoured the sweet almond-flavoured sugar icing and the banana cream tart that had been prepared specially for that night, that Lord Phanomyong had eaten his meal without once noticing the delicate flavours or rich textures of his favourite foods.

They ate slowly, for Lord Phanomyong believed in taking his time and savouring his food and the boy had quickly learned the pleasure of such a practice. When at length they were done, he bade the boy join him after the sun had set to at last perform the duty for which he had been chosen. Retiring to his bedchambers, he summoned his personal attendant and gave orders for the evening. The preparations were not unlike those for the first night of previous Chosen Ones, and included rice wine for himself and coconut milk for the boy to slake their thirsts, bowls of salted cashews and almonds, fresh fruit, and plates of sweet chocolate cut into simple bars and others into fanciful shapes to renew their energies. He had at first ordered candles scented with apple blossom, and then decided to switch them with candles scented with the fragrance of pine from the northern mountains, and finally had switched them with plain candles, preferring for this evening the pure and unchallenged scent of a boy.

He himself saw that there was plenty of lubricant-he did not wish to hurt the boy-and powdered alum to stem any bleeding that might occur, for even though he had every intention to be gentle, he was a large man in not just height and weight. It was not his intention to sink his sword up the boy's sheaf on this, the boy's maiden night mind you. The warrior-lord much preferred to introduce a new boy to the pleasures of the flesh slowly, beginning on the first night with the simplest and most widely practised pleasure of them all, vulgarly called spanking the monkey by those to the south, and polishing the bamboo cane by those to the north, and by various other names by nobles and peasants alike. There was much to learn about that simple pleasure known by soldiers on lonely nights on the battle field, by priests in their saffron robes who had sworn celibacy, and by young boys before the Age of Coming, techniques and variations found in ancient texts that heightened the pleasure far beyond the simple pounding that the commoner practised. From there, he would instruct the Chosen One in gradually more intricate and more pleasurable delights of the flesh, saving that ultimate pleasure a boy can provide a man for the last and savouring its anticipation.

That was his plan, but the Fierce Tiger of the Jungle nonetheless wanted to be prepared should the gods decree that this was the night he was to know the pleasure of taking the boy's prune. He knew from past experience that once drunk with lust it was his swollen member and Ixichan, the god of male virility, that made the decisions, not his heart, nor his mind. So desirable was this Chosen One, it was highly possible that he would be unable to resist the temptation, and if the gods willed it, he would be wrong to disobey them. The Favoured Son of Xiu fluffed the pillows, ordered a dozen more be brought in, and then had them removed as they made the room look cluttered. Finally changing into his favourite evening robes, he examined himself in the large full-length mirror, a gift from a rich and powerful king far to the west and placed strategically beside the bed. He had not fussed so much for any other Chosen One, and in truth, had not fussed so much for his wife, nor any of his ten concubines.

Finally he heard the hollow reeds at the entryway rattle and he turned and bade the boy to enter. Sliding open the partition, the boy bowed as was the custom, and then stepped over the grooved sill and into the room. The guard in the hallway immediately slid the partition closed, avoiding for the boy the awkwardness of having to face the Lord, but at the same time having to turn to close the door. Lord Phanomyong felt a tremor in his loins as the boy stood respectfully before him. Other than the four multicoloured silk scarves draped about his neck, he was wearing only a thin white thong that clearly revealed the outline of his boyhood curved up over his flat stomach. He carried with him the wicker basket he'd brought from his home.

The silk scarves hung loosely about his neck, accenting the butterscotch colour of his smooth, thin chest and provocatively floating in the air, now revealing his pert slightly darker nipples and then covering them under a transparent scarf, and then under an opaque of two silks overlapping while the other two scarves seductively followed the curve of his chest as it tapered to his narrow waist. He had the boy slowly turn in a circle, and he admired the smooth, compact buttocks and the slender thighs of the man-child. The narrow strip of thong disappeared along the crevice of his tight, little ass, hiding from his view that exquisite portal to the wildest delight a man can know.

"What is in the basket?" he asked as he motioned for the boy to come closer. It was not unusual for a boy to bring some little treasure from home, but it was most unusual for a boy to bring it with him to the bedchambers on that first night.

"My Lord," the boy replied, bowing his head respectfully. "This past year my mother's brother has been teaching me the practice of Nuad Bo-Rarn. This basket contains the few humble oils with which I have been trained by my uncle."

"No oils are used in Nuad Bo-Rarn," Lord Phanomyong advised with an indulgent smile.

"You are correct, of course, my Lord. But my uncle has been training me in the new and little known massage as practised at the Wat Pho in Settakorn, not in the traditional massage as taught by the venerable Jivaka Komarbhacca, whose teachings still form the basis of the massage, and for which reason it still bears the traditional name," the boy advised as if a schoolboy reciting a lesson he had memorized for his teacher. "With my Lord's permission, I would be honoured to be able to demonstrate the skill of my honourable uncle as a teacher."

"Very well," Lord Phanomyong agreed with a smile, untying the sash of his robe and allowing it to fall open to reveal his massive chest and stomach, and his impressive manhood. "You are not the first Chosen One who has attempted to delay being pierced by my sword of flesh."

"My Lord," the boy replied, bowing his head low in respect, "I would never deny my Lord the pleasure that is due him. I have been informed of the ultimate pleasure that a boy can provide his master, and I accept my destiny joyfully and with honour. But," he continued with a coquettish smile as he raised his head and looked at his master with wide, innocent eyes, "if a boy could extend the pleasure of his master but one extra day, can that be a wicked thing?"

Lord Phanomyong laughed at the question, at the wit that posed a question which could have only one possible answer, and at the brashness of the child for asking it. "So what is it that you are proposing, Chosen One?"

"Only that if I provide my Lord pleasure like he has never felt before, pleasure that would make slipping his sword into my sheaf the lesser of the two pleasures, then my Lord delay knowing me but for a day. For surely, my Lord, should not the taking of one's chastity be the greater pleasure, not the lesser?"

"If the pleasure of your massage is as great as you propose, Chosen One, then I swear it shall be so, but hear this. The pleasure must be like nothing I have ever before experienced, and it must make the pleasure of sinking my shaft up your young, virgin portal the lessor delight. If you fail, then you will bend over and accept your destiny this very night."

"That I would do eagerly, my Lord," the boy replied, "for such is not only my sworn duty, but my most ardent desire." The sincerity and humility in the boy's voice was reflected in his eyes, and Lord Phanomyong knew the boy had spoken the truth.

Chapter Three
Lavender

Once they were inverted, the sands of time began to flow, the large vial on the right taking twice as long to empty as the smaller vial in front of it, the large vial to its left taking twice as long to empty as the one on the right, the large one to its left taking as long as the first two combined, and the last vial taking four times as long as the first vial. In all, the eight vials took precisely one-sixth of the time that passed from one sunrise to the next to empty. Only the very rich owned vials of sand to measure the passage of time, and none were as beautiful as this, and nowhere in the land was one that measured time in eight fractions. The Sultan of Ishtar had called the chronometer The Sands of Delight, and had claimed to have once made love for as long as it took the eight vials to empty. Whether it was true or a boast, Lord Phanomyong did not know, but he himself, had managed to make love during the draining of the first six vials before he was spent.

Inverting the chronometer, Lord Phanomyong turned and looked across the room at the boy who had remained standing where he had left him. The boy looked directly into his master's eyes but made no move to approach the bed.

"You may begin," the Lord ordered, pleased that the boy knew his place, but irritated by his hesitancy and timidness. He inhaled deeply as he reminded himself that the boy was, after all, a simple peasant lad, and this was the first time he'd have been alone with a man in his bedchamber. It was also likely the first time he'd ever been away from his parents for so long, and likely the first opportunity he'd had to put his uncle's lessons into practice.

"Forgive me, my Lord, for I mean you and your ancestors no discourtesy," the boy replied softly as he looked down at his naked toes, "but I am afraid."

"Afraid? Afraid of what?"

"I know my Lord has sworn a vow of promise just moments ago for I heard it with my own ears, and I know the Favoured Son of the Great God Xiu would never willingly break a vow uttered by his own lips, but I am afraid that once my Lord experiences the pleasures of Nuad Bo-Rarn as practised at the Wat Pho in Settakorn, that his arousal will be so great the Fierce Tiger of the Jungle will be unable to refrain from demanding the duty I am obligated by the law of the land to provide. I would not wish to place my Lord in a position of breaking his oath, but I fear that with my limited training and inept understanding of the way of men, I might ignite passions which neither of us will be able to control."

"And how do you propose we avoid such a thing from happening?" the Lord asked with a smile, humouring the boy. The peasant child was articulate and evidently intelligent for the son of a rice farmer, and that combined with his rustic simplicity and honesty, intrigued and excited Lord Phanomyong as much as did the boy's beauty. He had experienced many delights in his time, and many Chosen Ones had performed their duty and pleasured him well, but very few had ever pleased him to the extent that he had lost control over himself, and certainly not one had ever presumed to suggest possessing such power.

Still, it had on the rarest of occasions happened. He smiled as he thought of how wonderful that experience was, to be driven by lust to act on the most bestial and savage level, and of those few exceptional boys out of hundreds who had brought him to that point of total abandon. Looking across the bed chamber at the newest Chosen One selected to serve him standing there in only a skimpy white thong and four silk scarves and staring down at his feet in apprehension, Lord Boroma Phanomyong felt an ache of desire deep in his groin and an inner sense that this was going to be one of those exceptional boys.

Many Chosen Ones had approached his bed with anxiety, and just as many with outright fear. Some had submitted to his desires with a resolve born out of duty, some had submitted with pride, and even some with desire, but none had ever approached his bed with a concern for his probity. He studied the boy, delighting in his innocence and beauty, aroused by his smoldering, dark brown, almond-shaped eyes, the delicate curve of his penis under his thong, and the smallness and smoothness of his buttocks. The boy was a unique treasure and radiated with the promise of great delight like the coals in a brazier on a cold winter night.

"In order that my Lord does not break his vow in the lust madness that my simple ministrations might arouse, if he may, this lowly servant and unworthy would humbly propose that my Lord's limbs be tied to the bed posts so he will be unable to act upon whatever carnal desires that may arise and which would cause him to do that which he would later be remorseful for having done."

A snort of laughter burst from Lord Phanomyong's fat lips and his pig-like eyes crinkled with merriment at the boy's confidence and his courage to address him so. Such were the charms of the young and innocent, charms that drew him to those who had not yet reached their age of maturity and who had not yet been tarnished by the realities and harshness of life. The boy was only speaking the truth as he saw it. With an indulgent smile, he spread apart his arms and legs and bade the boy to tie him into position. Removing the first of the long, multicoloured scarves from about his neck, the boy tied it about the thick wrist of his master's right hand and about the ornately carved right post of the canopied bed. The warmth of the boy's small, near-naked body against his, and the satiny feel of his smooth skin as it brushed against his own heightened Lord Phanomyong's ardour. Similarly tying his other wrist to the other post, the boy turned around to tie his master's ankles to the lower bed posts. The sight of the boy's small, round backside, the thong concealing only the crack between his cheeks and that portal to his chamber of delights, caused Lord Phanomyong's member to begin to swell in anticipation. He desired the boy's backside with a desire that made his loins ache, and although even before the boy had arrived at his bedchamber he had resolved not to take him this first night, and even though he had just sworn a vow not too, the sight of his firm, golden buttocks rendered his resolve and his vow meaningless. He was the Favoured son of the Great God Xiu, and he would do as the gods decreed.

As the boy tightened the last knot and stood up, the warrior-lord smiled. He admired the boy's confidence and even more so his precaution, but he was Master Over all That Is, Was, and Will Be and a man of no little experience, and he knew the Chosen One, despite his beauty and his intent, would never be able to bring him pleasure greater than he'd ever felt before by a mere massage. The boy's tight young ass would be his for the taking, and the only question was, would he take it this night?

Having tied the Lord to the bed posts, the near-naked boy walked over to his wicker basket, and opening it, took out a small brown earthenware jar. Opening it, he took the smallest possible pinch of the pale violet paste contained within it and smeared it over his left palm, and then rubbed his palms together. The sweet, unmistakable floral aroma of lavender wafted through the room. Kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed, the slender boy firmly grasped his master's right foot in his two hands and began to knead it, loosening each toe and relaxing the foot's many muscles, tendons, bones and ligaments while stimulating the hundreds of nerve endings forming a web on the surface. His hands were exceedingly small in comparison to the Lord's large foot, and his slender fingers surprisingly strong.

Lord Phanomyong closed his eyes and sighed as he relaxed. He felt the boy's thumb probe the inner sole of his foot and then cross up the meaty, calloused ball to his large toe. Working back down, probing softly but firmly across the fleshy ball and back down his inner sole, the boy repeated the cycle, this time up to the long, fat toe beside the largest and back down. So the boy massaged his Lord's foot, his lavender-oiled fingers working up and down from the inner sole to the other three toes and back. Lord Phanomyong sighed again as he felt the tendons and muscles in his foot relax. Despite his claim of ineptitude, the boy had a skill that was far beyond his age. Finally leaving his Lord's right foot, he went on to the left foot and repeated his actions. His master squirmed and spread apart his toes in delight. Normally curled and cramped from supporting his massive weight, his toes felt better than they had felt for the past decade.

Dipping his thumb in the jar of lavender, the boy who would no longer be known by the name Luan Ramayana but only as The Chosen One even after death, pressed the oiled digit against the inside of the Lord's heel, and then bending and relaxing his thumb so that it humped along his master's foot like a silkworm, he slowly worked up to the base of the big toe and back down again, pausing at any tender spots and breaking up with his thumb the crystal deposits that tension had left. The Master Over all That Is, Was, and Will Be sighed as a tingling sensation passed up his sore back as water is sucked up by a sponge, and the dull pain that had been plaguing him for months began to dissipate. Over and over the boy worked his thumb until he was satisfied that he had completely reduced the crystals of tension. Regularly coating his thumb with lavender, he walked it across the instep and ball of the other foot, and up and down and across all ten toes. As the boy slowly performed his duty, Lord Phanomyong felt the tension in his muscles subside, and a calm, relaxing feeling passed over him.

Moving up to the ankles of the Fierce Tiger of the Jungle and stretching apart his arms, the boy slowly and gently began to massage the swollen flesh. He carefully worked the lavender oil into the skin as he gently squeezed the bulging flesh which had filled with liquid from supporting the Lord's weight all day. The lavender relieved the pain, and the boy's palpitating fingers worked the fluid out of the cavities it had filled. The boy slowly and gently ran his oiled fingertips in concentric circles over the protruding ankle bone of each foot simultaneously, beginning on the outside of his master's legs and working about his ankle to the inside bone. Once again Lord Phanomyong felt his manhood pulse and begin to swell. In the drowsiness and warm contentment that had overtaken his mind, he had momentarily forgotten his lust, and the reason for the boy being in his bedchamber. The boy moved up past the ankle bones and ran his forefingers in tight concentric circles just above each projection and then slowly in tight circles all around them. The Lord's penis extended further and began to rise, slowly swelling like a feeding leech, and he felt the heat of desire begin to build deep in the pit of his pelvis.

Slipping both hands about the warrior Lord's right calf just above his ankle, the boy's fingertips just barely met. He squeezed and then released the tense muscle, gently at first, and then more firmly. Slowly he worked his way back down over the man's ankle and back down along the sides of his right foot, always gently kneading and probing his flesh. His Lord sighed with the pleasure passing not just through his foot, but up the ninety-third Sen, the energy line that flows from a man's right foot to his member, and through his engorged flesh. The boy slipped over to his master's other foot and wrapping both hands about his master's left calf just above his ankle, he again squeezed and released the tense muscle and began to work his way down his left ankle and along the sides of his left foot. As the pleasure flowed through his foot and up the ninety-fourth Sen to his now pulsating cock, he sighed with desire.

The warrior-lord's member had, without him really being aware of it, fully distended, and was now standing upright and throbbing pleasantly between his legs. It pulsated in time with his heart and the blood flowing through his ankles, and for the first time he became cognizant of the connection among the three. Despite the desire that had welled up from his loins and was now making his fat, stiff cock glow warmly, his heart beat slowly, as did the long thick tube that was his claim to manhood and his source of pleasure, and as did his thick ankles. Never had he been so aware of his circulation nor the rhythmic pulsation of his stiff cock as it, his heart, and his ankles throbbed in unison. Surprisingly relaxing and soothing, the boy's ministrations had reduced the pressure of his blood and he felt calm and refreshed, and yet the boy's foot and ankle massage had been highly erotic, so that he also felt a demanding need for his thick, blood-engorged cock to be fondled.

Glancing over at the chronometer, he was surprised to find that four of the eight vials had drained from the top to the bottom. He had been erect during at least the draining of the last vial, and his aching cock was now demanding its share of attention. Forming a "U" shape with his thumb and fingers, the boy slipped them about his master's large right toe and tugged on it, at first gently, and then more firmly. Kneeling there at the foot of the bed, the boy, clad only in his white thong, looked up at his master seductively as his fingers and thumb slide up and down his large toe, and the image of the young boy tugging on his little pricklet, which was probably no longer and even thinner than the warrior-lord's large digit, flashed through Lord Phanomyong's mind. His towering cock jerked wildly with the thought of the boy tugging on his toe in the same manner as he tugged on his boyhood in the privacy of his own bedchamber.

The boy finally lowered his eyes, as if he had read his master's mind, and slipping up on the large, canopied bed, he reached out and his fingertips gently, almost imperceptibly, brushed the engorged knob of his master's towering staff. The desire to cum immediately welled up deep in his loins, the power and need so great it surprised him. His foreskin had slipped down as he had grown erect, and the boy's fingertips now barely brushed the ridge of his large, exposed plum, causing his stiff member to twitch and ache for another caress. Ever so lightly, like the kiss of a butterfly, the boy's oiled fingertips landed on the sensitive ridge and lifted off. Over and over they touched and lightly caressed and the warrior Lord's need to release his seed doubled with each touch until his cock ached and wagged its head as if scolding the boy. Greater and greater became the need until he felt himself approaching that brink beyond which he would not be able to hold back his seed.

Before Lord Boroma Phanomyong reached that point, the Chosen One deserted his lust-swollen cock and returned to the largest toe of his other foot. His cock twitched angrily at the sudden departure of the boy's fingers and in desperation as the first tear of pre-cum oozed out of the pee slit, but the boy persisted in ignoring the thick, leaking member and instead tugged on the Lord's second toe. Ever so slowly his desire subsided and the flow of his pre-cum ceased as the sexual tension dissipated. Just as he had regained his composure, the boy's hands returned to tease his cock with his butterfly touch and to slowly bring him back to that peak a second time. He inhaled deeply, and the faint, sweet, musty fragrance of lavender filled his lungs. As he once again almost reached that point of orgasm, once again the boy teasingly deserted his twitching, aching shaft and returned to tug now on the second largest toe of his other foot.

Laying flat on his back with his arms and legs outspread, Lord Phanomyong raised his head and looked over at the boy kneeling on the bed to his right. He was short and slender, about thirteen hands tall and five stone in weight, his ribs and his shoulder blades protruding from his thin body. His skin, the colour and smoothness of butterscotch, had a fine sheen of perspiration from almost two-and-a-half hours of massaging his Lord. The boy's skin was unblemished, and when the boy's knees or his naked thighs brushed against him as the boy bent over to massage his ankle or tug on one of his toes, Lord Phanomyong's cock jerked with desire.

The boy's dark brown, almond-shaped eyes stared straight ahead, deep in concentration as the young masseuse recalled his uncle's instructions and palpitated the fleshy pad of his master's right foot, this spot causing a sensation of calm to flow along one of the seventy-two thousand energy lines that his people called Sen, the next spot causing his Lord's loins to ache for sexual release. The boy's eyes were deep with concentration, but still smoldered with that raw lust that only the eyes of youth can have.

The warrior-lord studied the boy's body as desire filled his loins, his eyes passing from the boy's gorgeous face, down past his tiny, pert nipples and down his thin, tapering chest and ribs to his narrow waist. Lord Phanomyong's entire body ached for the boy and he sighed with his lust as the boy once again turned his attention to his cock. As the boy's oiled fingers lightly caressed the rim of his knob and palpitated his now deep purple, spongy plum, the warrior-lord twisted with the stabs of pleasure that shot through his irritated glans and down the thick shaft. He noticed that the boy's white thong was tented out, the top pushed so far out that it was pulled away from his body. The thin silk material clearly showed the outline of the boy's small, hairless balls and his tiny erection, the digit-like organ no thicker than his master's thumb and only a fraction longer, the slightly larger knob still encased in his skin. Lord Phanomyong was pleased to see the man-child was as aroused as he was as he trembled and ached with the desire to release his creamy load. Closer and closer he reached that point and unable to hold back his reserve, and seeing no need to, he heaved his body upward, raising his hips off the bed as he willed with his mind the flow of his seed. The boy immediately stopped his palpitations and sat back on the edge of the bed while his Lord strained at his bonds and tensed his body, but he was unable to bring himself past that crucial point on his own.

The boy's fingers returned to his aching, rock-hard cock for the fourth time, and the moment his fingertips touched the sensitized plum, the desire to cum welled up immediately, and the fingers lightly caressed the knob but a dozen times and were gone least they trigger the release of his master's seed. As the boy tugged on his smallest toe, he told the boy he'd had enough and demanded the boy return to his member and finish the job he had begun, but the boy did not heed the demand. He did not even look up at the Lord, and instead stared at his oiled fingers as he tugged on first one and then the other of his master's smallest toes as if repeating his tutor's instructions in his mind. However, behind that look of concentration was the look of smoldering, boyish lust and Lord Phanomyong had the impression the boy was thinking of the delight of tugging on his own little bone.

It would have normally taken a long time for his desire to subside, but his anger now with the boy who dared to ignore his commands redirected his energies and the focus of his mind. So, when the boy reached for his still stiff cock for the fifth time, it was with both anger and desire that Lord Phanomyong pulled on the silk cords binding his wrists, and flexed his massive, powerful legs to lift his hips up off the bed as the boy grasped his thick cock by the base. At two hands in length, two-thirds of his member extended beyond the grasp of the boy's small fist.

His limbs bulged with the straining muscles, but all his efforts succeeded in doing was to tighten the knots of the silken scarves binding him to the bed posts. He now ordered the boy to untie him, and when the boy ignored him as one who is deaf, the Lord ordered him to straddle his body and to sit upon his swollen member, but still the boy ignored him. With his cockhead now burning as if it had been touched by ivy and not the fragrant leaves of lavender, he reminded the boy who was the master, and when that had the same results as his other demands, he threatened the boy with death if he did not obey his demand.

It was not the first time the guard just outside the sliding partition to the bedchamber had heard his Lord shout with anger, but usually it was because of some incompetence of one of the Lord's concubines, or in the final days of a Chosen One when the boy could no longer satisfy his master. Never had he heard words such as these, and never on the maiden night of a new Chosen One. The man sighed and tried to block the angry words from his ears. It was a shame, especially this latest boy being not only so attractive, but also so pleasant, but it was not the first time, and would probably not be the last, that a boy had failed to live up to his Lord's expectations on that first night. The guard ground his teeth as the curses became louder and more demanding, and he himself cursed as he thought of the beautiful young boy being lead away to the shrine of Agka, the God of Death. Realizing what he'd just done, he quickly begged forgiveness, for who was he to question his Lord, Protector of the People, and the gods of the Land of the Tiger Eye?

Throughout Lord Phanomyong's thrashing and angry orders, the boy had kept his grasp about the base of his organ and had tugged on it as he had with his toes. The Fierce Tiger of the Jungle closed his eyes and gritted his teeth and willed himself to come. He panted like a man who had run a thousand strides in full armour, and his body ached and perspired just as badly. As the boy slid his fingers up his shaft to enclose his plum, he thrust his hips up off the mattress and the silk scarves binding his limbs drew still tighter as once more the need to cum built up deep in his loins. Instead of withdrawing his fingertips this time, the boy ran them firmly around the ridge of the blood-engorged, ruddy plum, bringing his Lord closer to that point of no return than he ever had before. Inhaling deeply and holding his breath in anticipation of his climax, the warrior-Lord braced himself for the release of his seed. Then just as he expected to feel the twang deep in his loins that announced the commencement of his eruption, he felt the boy's forefinger press sharply against the cord at the base of his balls.

His spasms were like those of a man having a seizure and he gasped with the ecstasy of his orgasm, a powerful orgasm, but one without seed. His body jerked uncontrollably and as he thrust his hips up and smashed his hips back down against the soft mattress the huge warrior-lord whimpered with the sweet pain of his climax. The slit at the tip of his swollen cock opened and closed and he pushed out with his groin with all his strength, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not ejaculate. His body continued to twitch and ache as wave after wave of ecstasy passed over him. He raised his body and held it suspended above the mattress as he cried out in such pain that the guard at his door was sorely tempted to enter his mater's chambers despite the strict instructions not to do so. He had heard his Lord cry out with that sweet death many times before, and especially on the first night, but never with such passion, and although he found no delight in young boys, the guard envied his master for his pleasure.

Lord Phanomyong gasped and whimpered and cursed, and his body thrashed and his blood-engorged plum burned furiously in its ache for the familiar pleasure of having his seed gush out of the irritated slit, but such pleasure was not to come. For several more long minutes the boy kept up the pressure of that single digit directly below his tight, contracted pomegranates until the huge man stopped thrashing and his breathing began to return to normal and the desire to release his seed had subsided. The warrior-lord collapsed in exhaustion, his large chest heaving as he gasped for breath, a warm flush of post-climatic relief passing over his naked body and replacing the slowly diminishing tension.

The sand in the seventh vial had just begun to drain, and it would take until half the vial had drained before he would recover enough to open his eyes. His chest rose and fell rhythmically as he recalled the past three candlemarks. Never before had he felt such pleasure and desire, and never before had he been filled with such lust nor desired the release of his seed so badly. He slowly opened his eyes and looked up into the still smoldering, almond-shaped eyes of the boy from Nongkhai.

"Are you all right, my Lord?" the boy asked softly and with genuine concern.

Lord Phanomyong paused and then replied in the affirmative.

"Does my Lord wish me to untie him and bend over now to accept my destiny?"

Again Lord Phanomyong paused, but this time his response was in the negative. With only the slightest of smiles curing the corners of his lips, the only visible sign of his relief, the boy slid up on the bed and reached over to untie the silk scarf binding his Lord's right wrist. The sight and feel of his naked body against his own caused an ache deep his master's loins, but in comparison to the ache he'd just felt it was minor, and it was not an ache he wished fulfilled. The pleasure of his violent, dry orgasm had been like no other pleasure he had ever felt before, and it had been so powerful, and had so drained him of energy and of lust, that slipping his sword into the boy's sheaf now would be anti climatic, and he knew it could not possibly equal the pleasure that had caused him to call out as if in pain half an hour ago.

He had pulled so hard in his effort to get loose, and in the ecstasy of his dry climax, that the knots of the scarves holding his limbs had been pulled too tight for the boy to unfasten. The bound man lay there quietly and let the boy struggle for a while so he might regain his composure. He finally directed the boy to an ornate redwood cabinet in the corner of the room where he kept a small knife in one of the many drawers for the purpose of pealing fruit or slicing cheese. The boy lamented having to cut the fine silk scarves, and apologized almost to the point of tears for being unable to untie the knots. Only after assuring him that they could be easily replace, and that he need not fear being punished for cutting them, did he cut the bonds that bound his master to the bed.

Having done so, the boy slipped off the bed and returned the knife, and then stoppered and replaced the vial in his wicker basket. He stood there respectfully, waiting his Lord's orders.

"You may return to your room now," Lord Phanomyong announced.

The boy bowed low with respect, his head parallel to his navel, and slowly backed up across the bed chamber. Feeling for the sliding screen behind him, he finally found it and sliding the panel open, he stepped back over the raised sill. As the ornately engraved panel slid closed, Lord Boroma Phanomyong, Favoured Son of the Great God Xiu, Fierce Tiger of the Jungle, Defender of the People, and Master Over all That Is, Was and Will Be stared at it blankly. In the morning he would send the uncle of Luan Ramayana one of the finest rubies he owned in thanks for the gem that the tiny village of Nongkhai had provided him.

Chapter Four
Bergamot

That afternoon, although suffering from indigestion, he received several nobles from the far western reaches of the Land of the Tiger Eye. Scented candles and packets of dried flower petals and spices placed around his throne masked his flatulence, and the presence of the Chosen One helped to distract the nobles so they did not notice his growing discomfort. As he noted the admiration in their eyes as they gazed upon the boy, he wondered what they would say if they knew the slight boy had tied their Lord to the bed posts the night before and had made him cry out with such desire as a virgin maiden might the first time her husband introduced her to the joys of that one-eyed serpent that nested under the robes of all men.

He left the Chosen One to eat in his room that night while he took counsel with his physician regarding his illness. The ancient prescribed an enema and rest, but the Lord chose instead the company of his Chosen One. Despite his discomfort, he had been thinking of nothing else all day other than spending the evening with the boy. Last night had been most satisfying, and if the boy's simple massage could result in such pleasure, then the taking of the boy's virginity would be exquisite, possibly the most exquisite experience of his life. So great was his lust for the boy, and his desire for the ultimate erotic experience, that taking the boy's virginity that night was what he fully intended on doing despite his illness.

Once again the boy arrived clothed only in his white thong and four new multicoloured scarves and carrying his wicker basket. Motioning for the boy to approach the bed upon which he was sitting, the warrior-lord looked longingly at the near naked boy and reached out and ran his fingers through the boy's fine, thick hair. Fresh and clean and as dark as a moonless night, it was appropriate on him just as having the Chosen One before him shaved bald was appropriate for him. A stomach cramp suddenly seized him and as he winced he broke wind with a loud, odorous crack.

"My Lord is still not well?" the boy asked with concern.

"No," Lord Phanomyong responded, collapsing on his back and running a hand over his expansive stomach.

Lifting himself up onto the massive bed, the boy knelt beside his master and untied the wide sash of his robe. Gently opening the silk garment, he exposed his master's broad chest and bulging stomach. He ran a small, hot hand over the expansive stomach, and the fresh, clean smell of the boy and the feel of his hot hand on his flesh replaced the warrior-lord's discomfort with desire, as the great Lord had hoped it might.

"With my Lord's permission, I can help," the boy said softy.

"There is only one pleasure that can make me forget this discomfort," Lord Phanomyong replied, reaching out and running his hand over the boy's soft cheek. His stomach rumbled and he passed wind a second time. Despite the foulness, the boy, already well advised in the ways of a catamite by the old woman assigned to look after his needs, gave no indication of having noticed.

"There is that," the boy said simply, looking directly into his master's eyes with neither eagerness nor fear but only the resolve of one who has accepted the inevitable. "But there is another."

"Then you have my permission to proceed," his master said with an indulgent smile, "but do not think that relieving me of my discomfort absolves you of the duty you have been chosen to perform."

"My Lord," the Chosen One replied, bowing his head in respect, "I would never deny my Lord the pleasure for which I have been chosen. But," he continued with the same wide, innocent eyes and coquettish smile as the night before, "if a boy could relieve the discomfort of his master, and provide his master pleasure like he has never felt before besides, pleasure that would make slipping his sword into the boy's sheaf the lesser pleasure, can that be a wicked thing?"

Lord Phanomyong laughed at the question that again could have but one possible answer. "If the pleasure is like nothing I have ever before experienced, Chosen One, then I swear I shall leave the joy of sinking my shaft up your young, virgin portal for another night. But if you fail, you will bend over and accept your destiny."

"That I would do eagerly, my Lord, for such is not only my sworn duty, but my ardent desire," the boy replied, as he had the night before, and like the night before, the sincerity and humility in his voice was reflected in his eyes, and Lord Phanomyong knew the boy had spoken the truth. He turned the vials of the chronometer over and lay back down on his back.

The boy removed the first of his silk scarves and reached out for his master's thick wrist, and again the Fierce Tiger of the Jungle humoured the boy and allowed himself to be tied to the bedposts for a second time. Opening his wicker basket, the boy removed a brown earthenware jar and unstoppering it, he poured a small amount of the pale orange oil in his left palm and rubbed his palms together. Lord Phanomyong recognized immediately the sharp aroma of bergamot, that pear-shaped orange that grew in the southernmost reaches of his land.

Kneeling up on the bed beside his supine master, the boy ran his oiled hands over his master's firm, swollen stomach. The skin on his bloated stomach was as tight as the skin on a drum. He rubbed it gently at first, and then with gradually increasing pressure as he felt the man's tight stomach begin to relax. In time he was massaging and gently kneading the man's stomach as a housewife might knead a lump of dough, for the two were of the same resilience. He gathered up the rolls of fat so that the expansive stomach appeared pleated, and then spread them back out. He palpitated the firm flesh above the man's groin, and buried his fingers in the pale white folds of fat as he worked up toward the man's chest. Lord Phanomyong inhaled the sharp orange-scented air and as time passed, the tightness and the cramps in his stomach disappeared.

"My Lord is very tense tonight," the boy observed as he oiled his hands a second time.

"Yes, I imagine I am," his master responded as the boy continued to massage his fat stomach. "I have not felt well all day, and I have some unpleasantness to deal with tomorrow."

"Unpleasantness?" the boy asked.

"Yes. Thieves and highwaymen have been plaguing the trade route to Prabang, and the merchants have been demanding protection."

As he thought about the reports that had been coming in, and the meeting he had scheduled with the merchants the following morning, a meeting he was not looking forward to because he could not provide the protection they wanted, he closed his eyes and sighed. It was not easy being a ruler. His mind wandered from what he would tell the merchants to the warmth and pleasure now passing through his stomach as the young boy massaged and rolled his rolls of fat, and then back to how he would handle the meeting. More and more his mind lingered on the pleasure the Chosen One was providing.

The boy had deftly broken the crystals of tension in his stomach by working across it with his thumb just as he had worked his feet the night before. Now gently running his fingertips over his master's stomach, he located the Sen running through it, and by stimulating first one and then another, he caused energy to penetrate deep through the fatty tissue to his Lord's intestines where it dissipated the building gases, allowing them to flow back up the energy lines to the external points on his Lord's skin known to the practitioners of several of the oriental arts of massage and of medicine. Lord Phanomyong could feel the tension rising up out of his body and evaporating into the air as does the water in a lily pond on a hot summer day and he sighed deeply.

Pouring a bit more of the citrus oil over the fingers of his left hand and rubbing the front pads of his fingers together, the boy reached out for his master once again, but this time, not for the man's stomach. Gently taking the warrior-lord's limp member in his right hand, and cupping his testicles in the other, he slowly and carefully fondled the man's privates. Holding the flaccid member by the base, he tugged on the growing tube of flesh as he gently rolled his master's eggs in their loose sack with the fingers of his other hand, coating both with the citrus oil.

His warm, lubricated fingers slowly pulled back the skin of his master's member, exposing the man's bulb-like glans. Forming a "U" shape with his thumb and fingers, he gently held the man's glans by the rim and slowly rotated his wrist. The warrior-lord squirmed with the pleasure that immediately rippled around the rim of his glans, and his cock began swelling more quickly. As the boy slowly rotated his wrist in the other direction and continued to roll the man's swelling eggs in their sack, he stared down at his hands with the seriousness and concentration of a student whose skills were being examined by a master.

As Lord Phanomyong felt his cock growing erect in the boy's warm, oiled hands, he also became aware of the need to pass water, which would mean he would have to be untied, but he did not want to interrupt the pleasure the boy's fingers were bringing and the need was mild so he decided to ignore it. He noticed that once again three of the eight vials had already emptied, and that also once again the slender boy's brief thong was tented out, his tiny reed having stretched out the thin fabric and pulled it away from his body. The boy was deriving pleasure out of pleasing him, and the warrior-lord took as much joy out of that as he did out of the touch of the boy's fingers.

The boy began to stroke his now erect member earnestly, and the pleasure pulsating through his rigid flesh replaced the urge to urinate, which with his full erection, would have been difficult anyway. The boy's fingers deftly stroked his solid shaft from base to glans, just barely touching it. Lord Phanomyong inhaled deeply, his lungs filling with the sharp citric fragrance of bergamot, his indigestion and his anxiety having been replaced by erotic pleasure. The boy worked miracles, but considering his fondness for boys, that was no surprise. The knob of his cock burned warmly. If it were not strictly forbidden to present a catamite in the line of choosing, he would have suspected the young boy had been trained from birth to be of service to men. However, with the threat of putting the head of the village and the family to death and burning the village to the ground, it was unlikely that anyone would dare try to break that rule.

Lord Phanomyong inhaled deeply as his loins trembled with his approaching climax and he constricted and relaxed the sphincter of his urethra. Somehow sensing the approach of his Lord's orgasm, the boy grasped his engorged cock just below the knob and squeezed tightly, an old trick the elders taught the initiates at the Coming of Age ceremony to subdue a man's desire and prolong his pleasure. The sands of time trickled from the top of the fourth vial to the bottom silently as the young boy sat there motionlessly, waiting for the man's lust to subside.

When it had, he resumed stroking the stiff, irritated organ, now pumping his fist up and down the thick shaft and being careful not to touch the sensitized rim of the man's glans nor push his foreskin up over it. The thick, solid tube throbbed hotly in his small hand, and the need to quell his desire arose much more quickly. The first clear droplet of pre-cum oozed out of the one-eyed snake, but like the night before, the boy chose to ignore the flow of that sweet nectar. As he continued to slowly stroke the shaft of the man's swollen member, more of the clear nectar oozed out of his slit, and the warrior-lord thrust his hips upward in his desire to cum. The boy immediately ceased the rhythmic pumping of his fist and once again squeezed the pulsating member below the glans as tight as he could until once again the desire to cum subsided.

Lord Phanomyong's breathing was laboured now as the boy resumed teasing his stiff cock, and knowing the boy's intent, he lay back and concentrated on the thrills of pleasure that were running through his plum and along the Sen of his cock and on the ache deep in his loins. It was a strange pairing, that sweet pleasure and pain, the one aching for the boy to continue and the other aching for the boy to stop. As he approached his climax for a third time, he wanted the building tension deep in his groin to continue building forever, and at the same time he wanted to ejaculate and end the pressure. Pleasure and pain combined for that brief time, both sweet, both excruciating. Then, at that last moment, the boy again choked his snake, and the two sensations slowly faded. Looking over at the chronometer, he saw that the fifth vial had emptied.

Three times he had approached that peak of orgasm in the past hour. Could he withstand another two? That had to be the Chosen One's intent. Again the boy oiled his fingers, and Lord Phanomyong sucked in the sharp citric scent of bergamot as the boy once more grasped his still hard cock and began to stroke it. The warrior-lord closed his eyes and concentrated again on the rhythm, on the gradually increasing pleasure and then the commencement of that sweet pain of anticipation until the pleasure and pain became one, the crescendo building to the point of climax only to be cut off at the last instant.

The Lord, knowing what to expect, vowed not to call out like a young bride on her wedding night as he had the evening before, but when he reached the fifth peak and his body trembled and ached for the expected release only to have the boy relieve the pressure still again without allowing him to climax, he groaned loudly with disappointment and surprise. This time he was given no time to recuperate, and the desires had not yet subsided when the boy began to vigorously pump his lust engorged cock once more. As he felt himself approaching an orgasm for the sixth time, he confessed to the boy that he had succeeded, that this night was better than the night before, which it was, his confession not being just because if he did not come this time his eggs would explode. Between gasps of ecstasy and pain he praised the boy for his skill, and in a voice that was not quite begging, told him to let him cum, but as the night before, the boy had become deaf and dumb, and instead of bringing his master off, he released his aching snake.

Lord Phanomyong cried out in frustration as his thick, member jerked in the air wildly and ached as if it had been stretched on the rack, which he now threatened to do to the boy if he did not immediately grasp his member and bring him off. He pulled on his silk bonds and thrust his hips into the air and crashed his backside back down on the bed. He closed his pig-like eyes and gritted his teeth as he focussed his mind on his withering snake and willed it to spit out his seed, but all he could do was vent his anger.

For the seventh time the boy grasped his master's organ, now aching as if being pierced by fine needles and now a brilliant red with its veins extended and the glans so engorged it looked like a ripe plum about to burst. The boy stroked relentlessly and his Lord groaned and called out, first with pleasure and then with pain, and the scarves about his wrists and ankles were pulled so tight they began to cut off the circulation to his hands and feet. Closer and closer he approached that point again, and Lord Phanomyong did not know if he should order the boy to bring him off or to pray to the mighty god Xiu.

He held his breath as they approached his climax for that seventh time, and he squeezed his eyes shut as the pressure in his loins doubled with each stroke and he expected to feel the ultimate pleasure of the release of his seed any moment. His mind focussed on his groin and as he felt his seed about to shoot up his shaft he thrust his hips in the air just as the boy pressed his first finger against the pressure point under his pomegranates where the thick cord runs between his legs. With a mighty cry of pure ecstasy and with anguished dismay, the warrior-Lord froze with his hips thrust upward as high as he could raise them and his body trembled finally with his orgasm. His swollen cock throbbed like a pulsating heart ripped from an opponent's chest and he constricted the sphincter muscles of his anus and his penis as he tried desperately to release his seed.

His breathing was laboured as if he had just fought and conquered a mighty enemy and he strained against his bonds. As he collapsed back on the bed he grunted and panted and his massive stomach rose and fell as he rapidly opened and closed his penile sphincter in a desperate attempt to ejaculate, but the pressure of the tip of the boy's finger at the base of his pomegranates stemmed the flow of his juice. His numb cock had never felt more swollen than it did at that moment. He trembled with the pleasure of his dynamic orgasm which had flowed along his Sen from his abused cock throughout his body. Never had he felt such pleasure, and never had he felt so drained.

Laying down beside his master, the boy snuggled close to him and stretching one arm across his massive body, he rested his head on the man's chest. Reaching down and slipping his fingers under his thong, he slowly and gently fondled his swollen reed. Once again six of the eight vials of sand had drained, and once again the warrior-lord lay there on his back recovering while the sand in the seventh vial flowed through the narrow neck to fill the bottom section. Once again the rice wine and coconut milk and salted nuts and sweet chocolate lay untouched on the mahogany table. The boy's head slowly rose and fell as the man's breathing gradually returned to normal. At long last the boy raised himself on one elbow and looked at his master with those dark brown, innocent eyes.

"Have I pleased my master?" he asked softly.

"Yes," sighed the bound man.

"More than the last time?"

"Yes," he said with a smile.

Having brought with him a sharped bamboo shoot, the boy proceeded to loosen the knots of the silk scarves, and untie his master before retiring to his own bed.

Chapter Five
Ginger

The great Lord was looking forward to the evening with even greater anticipation. There was no doubt in his mind that tonight he would be enjoying the delight of wielding a different sword, for after the previous night, there was no way in the Heavens above or the Hells below that the boy could top the pleasure he had given him. So, he'd had a long bath and changed into clean robes, choosing a powder blue silk robe embroidered with delicate apple blossoms, and sent new apparel to the Chosen One for that night, a pair of white silk pajamas and a creamy orange silk vest, both which would set off his butterscotch skin. Tonight was the night he would crack the boy's prune, and although he knew that would mark the beginning of the end and that saddened him deeply, that was, after all, why the Chosen One was selected.

They began their repast that night with pineapple slices topped with a ground pork and peanut mixture, a new delicacy for the boy, and whose boyish delight was so evident the Fierce Tigger of the Jungle had to smile. He noted that often it is the simplest things that bring the greatest joy, and for him, the smile of delight on a young boy's face as he discovered a new delight was one of them. The pineapple slices were followed by a lemony chicken soup, thick and creamy with coconut milk and flavoured with ginger and coriander, green shrimp curry in a hot chilli and ginger paste, which was one of Lord Phanomyong's favourite courses and accompanied by boiled rice, fried rice noodles in a sweet pork sauce which he had requested specially for the Chosen One, and sour fish balls. They ate heartily, man and boy, and concluded their repast with slices of fresh honeydew melon, sapodilla and rose apple.

"My Lord is feeling much better tonight," the boy remarked as they retired directly to the bedchamber.

"Much," replied Lord Phanomyong. "My meeting with the merchants went well, and tomorrow I will spend the day doing what I most enjoy doing."

"Then we will be spending the day in your bed tomorrow, my Lord?" the boy asked, looking up at him with large, innocent eyes, but a second later his lips curled with a suggestive leer and there was a hint of mischievous humour in his dark brown eyes.

"There is that too," the warrior-lord laughed, "but what I was referring to was the strategy meeting I have with my generals tomorrow. We are off to war."

"Then I have just the oil for my Lord's massage this night," the boy announced, his manner turning serious. "One that improves the circulation, clears the head, increases one's mental alertness, and improves one's memory."

"So you think you will once again use this strange new version of the Nuad Bo-Rarn as practised at the Wat Pho in Settakorn to avoid having your backside pierced by my sword of flesh," Lord Phanomyong observed with a smile.

"My Lord," the Chosen One replied, bowing his head in respect, "I would never deny my Lord the pleasure for which I have been Chosen. But," he continued with the same wide, innocent eyes and coquettish smile as the night before and the night before that, "if a boy could assist his master in the performance of his duties, and at the same time provide his master pleasure like he has never felt before, pleasure that would make slipping his sword into the boy's sheaf the lesser pleasure, can that be a wicked thing?"

Lord Phanomyong laughed loudly at the question that again could have but one possible answer, and he wondered how many nights the young boy thought he could top the erotic delight of the night before. "If the pleasure is like nothing I have ever before experienced, Chosen One, then I swear I shall leave the joy of sinking my shaft up your young, virgin portal for yet another night," the great Lord promised, as he had the previous two nights. "But this time you will surely fail," he said, looking at the boy fondly, as a father might a son. There was also an edge of challenge in his voice and in his eyes, along with a hint of sadness. For the Favoured Son of the Great God Xiu to speak in such a manner to a servant boy must surely have surprised even the Great God Xiu Himself. "And, if you fail, you will bend over and accept your destiny."

"If I shall fail, I will eagerly bend over and accept my destiny, my Lord, for such is not only my sworn duty, but my ardent desire," the boy replied, as he had the night before and the night before that, and like the nights before, the sincerity and humility in his voice was reflected in his eyes, and Lord Phanomyong knew the boy had spoken the truth.

Sending for the boy's wicker basket and scarves, he bade the boy remove his new clothes so he might not stain them with oil. He sat there on the massive bed and watched as the boy slipped the creamy orange silk vest off and folding it neatly, turned to lay it on the foot stool by the bed. Despite the fine food he had been eating, he was still slim, the energy and metabolism of youth eating up the calories that in a man turns to solid muscle and in an old man turns to lard. His boney shoulder blades poked through his back like small wings, and Lord Phanomyong observed silently that he was indeed an angel. With his back still to his Lord, the young boy pushed down the fine white silk pajamas and then bent over to step out of them. The sight of the boy's small, compact buttocks, like golden sundew melons, caused the warrior-lord's member to quiver with desire, and for a brief moment he reconsidered the oath he had made to the boy. His massive body jiggled as he laughed silently. He was already admitting defeat and the boy had not even begun!

Folding his pajamas and placing them on top of his vest, the boy turned and walked back to his Lord, his tiny member, the size of the Lord's large toe, bouncing above his tiny nut sack and below his smooth pubes. His privates were the same delightful shade of golden-brown as the rest of his body, and once again the Lord's member quivered with the thought of how silky smooth his penis and nut sack must feel. With a smile of surprise, the Fierce Tiger of the Jungle realized that he had not yet felt those delicate jewels although the boy had already been with him for a third of the moon's cycle. The anticipation of how they would feel caused his member to swell still further.

The rattle of the hollow reeds outside his bedchamber announcing the arrival of his personal attendant with the boy's wicker basket and scarves interrupted his thoughts. Ordering his attendant to slide open the partition and to place the boy's things on the floor on the bedchamber side of the raised sill, Lord Phanomyong waited for the ornate partition to slide closed before sending the boy to retrieve them. As he watched the slight boy quickly step over to the partition and bend over to pick up his belongings, the Fierce Tiger of the Jungle again felt a pang of desire deep in his groin, and as the boy turned and walked back toward the bed, the Lord's one-eyed snake rose to watch him.

As he was about to turn the vials of the chronometer over, he was stopped by the boy, who timidly said he would like to try a new position, one which he was sure would heighten his master's pleasure, but being that they had not used this position, he was not sure if his Lord could assume it the first time. Lord Phanomyong knew that what the boy really meant was that he was afraid the Favourite Son of Xiu might not be able to assume the position at all. He was not a stupid man, and knew full well the toll that age and the life of leisure had taken on his body. Taking the boy's comment as a challenge, he told the boy to explain this new position, upon which the boy informed him he would have to first sit in the lotus position. Now that is a common way of sitting for many in the eastern lands. It requires one to sit with his right foot on his left thigh and his right knee firmly pressed downward. The left leg is then placed over the bent right leg so the left foot rests on one's right thigh. It was a position Lord Phanomyong often assumed, and had no difficulty with, and had been the position in which he had been sitting the night he and the Chosen One had shared their first meal together.

After his Lord had assumed the position, the boy had him lay on his back with his legs still in the lotus position and his knees flat on the bed, not an easy position for the rotund Lord but one which he managed to achieve with the help of his elbows, and the support of the young boy. The Chosen One then instructed the Favourite Son of Xiu to stretch his arms down as far as he could toward his toes. Lord Phanomyong guessed what the position really required and he strained, and almost succeeded, despite his ponderous belly and having discontinued a rigorous exercise habit years ago, in touching his toes. Lying there on his back with his legs crossed and knees pressed against the bed with the backs of this toes snug against the inside crook of the knee of the opposite leg and his outstretched fingers almost touching his toes, the great Lord inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying not to reveal to his young servant child the exertion it had taken to assume the position.

Using one of the scarves, the young boy bound his master's ankles together. Tying one end of the second around the Lord's right wrist, he first looped the scarf around the top of his right calf just below the knee and then looped and tied the end around the top of his lower right thigh just above his knee, pulling the loops tight and stretching his Lord's right hand toward his left foot. Similarly tying his left wrist to his left calf and thigh, the boy requested that his master bend his head back as far as he could, and looped the last scarf through his topknot and down underneath him to the scarf binding his ankles. If the Lord tried to straighten his legs, he would pull on his topknot, and if he tried to straighten his head, he would pull his bent legs closer to his body. Either would be painful.

"My mother's brother has told me this is known as the fish position, my Lord, and is one of many stretching routines practised by religious men in a jungle land not unlike our own far to the west."

"Hmmph," grunted the Fierce Tiger of the Jungle, "most likely by religious men who measure their piety by the pain they can endure. This hardly seems the position a man can expect to bring him erotic pleasure."

"The Sands of Time will tell, my Lord," the boy responded as he turned the vials of the chronometer over. As the boy opened the third earthenware jar from his basket, Lord Phanomyong recognized immediately the sharp, pungent aroma of ginger. Pouring a bit of the reddish-yellow oil in his palm, and rubbing his palms together, the boy knelt at the foot of the bed, and as he had that first night, began to massage his Lord's feet, whose soles in this position, were facing upward in a most vulnerable position. Lord Phanomyong made a mental note to himself to suggest this position to his generals should they capture any prisoners of war in the upcoming campaign that might need some encouragement to reveal the military secrets of their country.

He then closed his eyes and relaxed, allowing the boy's deft fingers and the penetrating oil to relax and to arouse him, though for a fleeting moment, his mind observed that there was a fine line between the torture he had envisioned and the pleasure the Chosen One had been providing him these past two nights. As on that first evening, the boy's oiled thumb wormed its way up and down his sole and across the underside of his toes of first one foot and then the other, and again he felt the ripple of energy flow along his Sen to his back and to his kidneys, to the cramped muscles of his thighs, and to his groin. As the boy worked his magic, Lord Phanomyong felt less and less discomfort in the twisted position he was in and his mind was soon floating blissfully as peace and relaxation washed over him.

Then, slowly penetrating that fog of contentment, he became aware of rivers of pleasure flowing along the energy lines from his soles to all points of his body, and then gently turning and heading to his groin. Leaving his feet, the boy began to work the reddish-yellow oil into his master's chest. Beginning at his Lord's collar bone, he worked his fingers in small but gradually widening concentric circles on opposite sides of the V-shaped bone. Gradually he worked across the expanse of his Lord's chest just below his shoulders and toward his arms, and then back a bit lower toward the centre of his chest. As he leaned over his master's massive form, his warm, naked body slid across his master's oiled breasts, streaking his naked body with the ginger oil. His oiled butterscotch skin reflected the flames of the candles placed about the bed, which in turn was reflected in the large mirror.

As he began working back out, he reached his master's nipples. Rubbing around them in tight, concentric circles, he massaged the warrior-lord's fleshy breast just beyond the areola, making a complete circle around each nipple before touching the sensitive buds. They burned with a pleasant itch as his oiled fingertips lightly caressed them, and they quickly became firm and swollen. Lying there with his arms tied to his legs and his topknot to his ankles, the Great Lord had no choice but to lie there on his back and allow the boy to caress his aroused nipples. The pleasure rippling through them flowed through the Sen connecting them to Lord Phanomyong's mind, and to his groin, causing his member to once again begin to swell. As it did, the boy continued on, caressing the remainder of his broad, fleshy breasts until they glistened in the candlelight.

Again he lightly oiled his fingers and began to massage the warrior-lord's most private parts, causing his member to quickly rise and throb with desire, that desire accented by the nakedness of the boy and the touch of his body as he sat on his heels beside his master and leaned over to cup his large testicles. The fifth vial of sand began to drain as the boy grasped his master's solid cock and began to slowly stroke it.

Lord Phanomyong closed his eyes and concentrated on the pleasure as the young boy slowly began to polish his bamboo cane for the third night in a row. In the position the boy had tied him, he could not see, but he could picture the boy sitting there on his haunches on the bed beside him, his wide, almond-shaped eyes staring at his hand slowly working up and down the thick, pulsating cock in his fist, and his tongue squeezing out between his tightly pressed lips as he concentrated on what he was doing.

Once again the boy brought him to that delightful peak but just as the Lord was sure he was going to ejaculate, the boy quelled the urge, this time with a sudden wrench of his knob which shot pain through its sensitized rim. Waiting for pain and desire to subside, the boy began to slowly pump his fist again and as the pleasure of that hot hand gripping his throbbing member returned and as the boy's fingers gently and lightly brushed against the sensitive rim of his glans, Lord Phanomyong greeted the building arousal with mixed emotions. On the one hand, he took great delight in that the young boy took such pleasure out of polishing his cane and he delighted in the pulsating of his cock and the build up of tension in his loins once again as the boy's hot little hand stroked his member. He dreaded, on the other hand, what he knew was going to come, the sudden painful twist of his knob to kill his desire so the boy would be able to repeat the process all over again.

It was delightful, being brought to that peak over and over, but a man can be pleased only so often that way before that pleasure becomes a torture, and having been brought to that peak seven times the previous night before being brought to orgasm, Lord Phanomyong was certain that tonight was the night that pleasure was going to turn to pain, and the boy, despite his good intentions, was going to fail. That eventuality he also greeted with mixed emotions. It would mean that he would at last with a clear conscious sink his pleasure pole up the tight backside of the virgin boy, a pleasure that he'd delighted in with hundreds of Chosen Ones in the past, but one which he'd never looked forward to with such desire as he did with the present one. It would also mean that the boy could offer him no greater pleasure, and he suspected just as his desire had never been so great before, so would he tire more quickly of this boy than any before him.

As Lord Phanomyong felt himself approaching his point of orgasm for the fourth time, he squirmed with the pleasure of the increasing pressure deep in his groin and the pleasant burning of his glans. The boy was skilled at delivering this pleasure, and knew just how much pressure to apply and just how often to touch his sensitized knob. The warrior-lord squirmed with the sensual delight, being careful not to pull down on his legs nor to raise his head, for either one caused the silk scarf looped through his topknot to pull on his scalp. Instead he directed his energies to pushing down and pulling up his arms, stretching them as far as he could in both directions within the confines of the binding scarves. It was strange to channel his energies thus, but it also added a different dimension to his arousal, and the motion of his arms was not unlike the exercise demanded of them when he lay above a boy and took his pleasure. That thought caused a twitch deep in his body, a twitch that announced the imminent release of his seed.

He tensed, preparing himself for the sudden wrenching of his engorged plum and the replacing of his desire with pain. It had to happen any second now. To his surprise the boy continued to slowly and rhythmically stroke his cock and the pressure deep in his groin continued to build. He inhaled the ginger-scented air deeply as he felt his orgasm about to begin. Suddenly the boy jabbed the pressure point under his balls, and while his body was racked with the pleasure of orgasm, it was the pleasure of a dry climax. His immediate reaction was to straighten his legs and raise his head, both of which pulled the silk scarf connecting his ankles and his topknot tighter, which resulted in his scalp feeling like his topknot was being ripped from it, and which in truth, it was. He immediately threw his head back and drew his legs even tighter toward his body, relieving him of the pain.

Keeping his legs drawn up, he inhaled sharply with a mixture of feelings. The intense pleasure in the pit of his groin rippled through it and up his throbbing member. His body shook with ecstasy as wave after wave crashed through his body. His dry climax was a delight, but he was disappointed that the boy had been unable to prevent it from happening for at least a few more cycles. The previous night the boy had brought him to that peak seven times before allowing him to climax. This night he had brought him to that peak only four times. There could be no question the boy had failed to bring him greater pleasure than he had the evening before, and now the boy was his. It was a strange feeling, because along with his sadness for the boy, and the sadness for himself, was the anticipation of now enjoying the depths of the boy's body, as he had intended to enjoy the boy all along. It was with those conflicting thoughts that he slowly began to descend from that peak of ecstasy that only a man can know.

Before his member began to droop, however, he felt the boy slip his fist about it and begin to stroke it once again. The glans, now extra sensitive, immediately began to burn with irritation and Lord Phanomyong realized that just because the boy had brought him to a dry orgasm, the Chosen One was not yet finished with him. The rim of his sensitive knob stung as if the boy's fingers were leaves of nettle and the eye winked open and closed as it ached to feel the ejaculation of his seed. He concentrated on the pleasure and all too soon the mighty warrior felt the tension in his groin build to the moment of release once again, but he knew the boy was not going to allow him the pleasure. As the boy released his organ and allowed it to jerk wildly in the air in a futile attempt to entice the eggs below to constrict and squirt out their juice, Lord Phanomyong cursed him and ordered him to finish the job.

The Chosen One knelt there again as if struck deaf and dumb, and wisely chose not to make eye contact with his master, for if he had, he would have been unable to ignore the man's pleas. It took a long time for the Fierce Tiger of the Jungle to calm down, but he did, and by then his member had ceased to ache. So, the boy reached out, and slowly and deftly began to gently stroke the thick, firm staff once again, sending that sweet pain through the irritated knob and causing the warrior-lord to squirm and gasp as once again he was brought to that peak, that moment before the small death, only to have his snake choked still again and the urge quelled for the sixth time.

It took much longer for the Fierce Tiger of the Jungle to regain his breath. As his irritated cock throbbed with arousal and pain, he did not know whether to curse or to praise the boy sitting there beside him and staring at his upright organ as if hypnotized by it. In a way, that one eyed cobra was hypnotic, and as Lord Phanomyong lay there on his back with his massive cock aimed at the ceiling and feeling more swollen than it ever had before, he recalled that one of his early delights years ago when he'd instituted the boy tithe was seeing the awe in a young boy's eyes upon first seeing his mighty organ, and the awe and delight the young boy took in being the one responsible for producing his seed those initial times.

So, as the dark-haired boy reached over and began to stroke his massive cock again and the erotic pleasure of his stroking rippled through his erect flesh, Lord Phanomyong sighed with not just his delight, but with being able to share in the delight of the boy who was experiencing this new and wonderful joy. As the warrior-lord's breath became deep and laboured, he wondered which was the greater pleasure, his approaching climax, or the sense of accomplishment that filled a young boy's heart and the wondrous awe of fondling a grown man's cock and bringing him that sweet pleasure known only to men and gods. It was no wonder that the boy wanted to bring him to that peak over and over again, and realizing that, the warrior-lord delighted even more in the pangs of arousal rippling through his thick shaft as the pressure developed deep in his groin once again.

As the Fierce Tiger of the Jungle approached that crucial point for the third time since his dry orgasm, the boy continued to stroke the engorged organ, and again as he felt the skin of the warrior-lord's swollen member tighten and the pulse of the thick blue vein that runs up the underside of his cock quicken, he immediately jabbed his finger against the pressure point under his nut sac, and as the man heaved up and grunted in expectation of the release of his seed, he instead quivered with his second dry orgasm, the only type of orgasm the boy knew, and which he had been enjoying in the privacy of his chamber since his arrival at the palace as he thought of these evenings playing with his master's long, fat member and the pleasure he brought him.

As the boy continued to press against that nerve, the mighty warrior heaved and his thick arms and legs bulged so that one would expect the silk scarves to be rendered. He grunted and snorted as the tremors of orgasm passed over his body and the joy of the release of his seed was denied him again. He gasped and cried out with that pleasure that was not a pleasure as ripple after ripple of orgasm ripped through his blood-red plum and the opening closed and dilated in desperation as the mighty warrior-lord drew his legs in tight toward him and pushed down with his arms with all his strength.

Six vials of the sands of time had once again drained, and it took the seventh before the great Lord's breathing had returned to normal. As he lay there, he first silently fumed at the boy for causing him such torture, and then silently praised him for such skill as to make him cry out like a banshee with pain, or a concubine with ecstasy. His praise was as unjust as his anger, for the boy was only doing what he had been chosen to do, to please his master, and when a reasonable man considered what had happened, that was all that he had done. That was what Lord Boroma Phanomyong, Favoured Son of the Great God Xiu, Fierce Tiger of the Jungle, Defender of the People, and Master Over all That Is, Was, and Will Be concluded as the eighth and final vial began to drain.

Long after the Chosen One had left for his own bed, the mighty-warrior lord was still awake. He smelled of ginger, and of boy, and he felt more alert than he had for years. Getting to his feet and putting on his robe, he headed for the shrine of Xiu, and there he prayed for success in the upcoming campaign, and he thanked the Great God for the gift of the Chosen One from Nongkhai.

Chapter Six
Eucalyptus

Finally, in the dark of night, he arouse, and after sending his personal attendant on an errand of the utmost secrecy and waiting for his return, he mounted his steed and headed south with his most trusted followers. He and his men rode hard until the sun broke, and spent the daylight in hiding at the home of a loyal and trusted noble. As he lay down to rest that morning, he took out the object he had sent his attendant to obtain, a simple, unwashed, white thong, and holding it to his nose, he lay down, and fell asleep. That afternoon he exercised in the courtyard. It had been many years since he had ridden into battle and he practised long and hard, and the exercise was exhausting. However, as soon as the sun had set, the warrior-lord and his trusted men mounted and travelled south until the sun broke in the morning, at which time they sought refuge in the home of another trusted follower. The mighty warrior-lord fell asleep the moment he lay down, a white thong held close to his face.

Travelling by night or in small unassuming groups by day, seven days later the army of Lord Phanomyong gathered along the southern border where slabs of stone engraved with the eye of the tiger marked the boundary between the two lands. Lord Phanomyong was a wise and experienced warrior, and he knew that might or right did not always win battles, but stealth did. When the army was assembled, Lord Phanomyong gave the signal, and the army of the Land of the Tiger Eye invaded the Principality of Mythar. They marched across the land, a wave of fierce warriors from the north invading village after village where they captured the men, but they neither slaughtered them nor amused themselves with them, but rather, they bound them and took everyone who had ever engaged in the ceremony of Khawrianphukta, the ritual that marked the Age of Coming, back across the border into the Land of the Tiger Eye. The homes and crops they neither pillaged nor burned, and the women and children they did not ravage, though the oldest boy of those who had not reached the Age of Coming in each village was blindfolded and taken north, where he was allowed to see the welfare of the fathers and brothers and grandfathers of the village. He was then sent back to his village along with the oldest boy of the other villages to assure those who had been left behind that their loved ones were safe.

As Lord Phanomyong penetrated deeper into the southern Principality, he became aware of the beauty of the dark-skinned boys of the southern land. Their skin was as dark as that of the jaguar that inhabited their land, and even the palms of their hands and the soles of their feet were darker than that of any peoples he had ever seen. It being a hot land, even hotter than the Land of the Tiger Eye, they often went about naked, even those who were past the Age of Coming, but boys of that age had never interested the Fierce Tiger of the Jungle other than as ornaments for foreign dignitaries to admire.

Despite the unique appearance of the dark skinned, preadolescent boys, and even though they exhibited those characteristics of young boys before the Age of Coming that boys exhibited everywhere and that he so admired, Lord Boroma Phanomyong, Favoured Son of the Great God Xiu, Fierce Tiger of the Jungle, Defender of the People, and Master Over all That Is, Was, and Will Be did not claim one to accompany him in his tent at night despite the temptation. To release one's seed, whether it be through the services of a boy or a woman, while engaged in battle was taboo for all men, even the ruler of the land, for it is well known when a man is at war, engaging in sex of any nature would rob him of his strength and vitality and would dull his mind and his senses. There were those who disobeyed the command, but the Fierce Tiger of the Jungle was not one of them, and those who did, seldom survived the war.

Besides, there was another rule, one that applied only to the Favoured Son of the Great God Xiu, and that was that as long as there was a Chosen One at Chiangmai, he would never touch another boy in any other way than to caress his cheek or his buttocks in admiration. There were times in the past when he'd been tempted to change that rule, for as the Favoured Son of the Great God Xiu he could make and discontinue any rule he wished, but he had always resisted the temptation. On this campaign, the uniqueness of the boys and the pain of being away from the Chosen One made the temptation all the more difficult to resist, especially upon seeing a particularly attractive boy. He may have been the Favoured Son of the Great God Xiu, but he was, after all, also a man.

He did resist, however, with the help of that special possession he had sent his personal attendant to obtain. Each night he lay down in his tent and took out that small white thong that he carried with him always and that after all those days still carried the scent of the butterscotch-skinned boy back in Chiangmai. His prayers to the gods to look favourably on this campaign also included a request to look favourably upon the boy he'd left behind, and though some might find it strange that he did not include his wife nor any of his concubines nor any of his sons by either in a similar request, to question so would reveal one knows nothing of the way of the Lord of the Land of the Tiger Eye nor of its people. A man could have many wives, concubines, or sons, but the Favoured Son of the Great God Xiu could only have one Chosen One.

Finally at Laotsung the army of Saotuathaa, Prince of Mythar, and the army of Lord Phanomyong, Lord of the Land of the Tiger Eye, met. Many were killed on both sides, but the army of the Land of the Tiger Eye was buoyed up by the villages they had conquered and was driven hard by the Generals by order of Lord Phanomyong, and was victorious. That night Lord Phanomyong rejoiced, for although the battle had only begun, that day the destiny of the war had been determined. The old and wise warrior knew that who had drawn first blood would be passed from mouth to ear and spread across the land. While that news would encourage his men, it would spread fear throughout his enemy.

And so it came to pass, and though the battle was fierce, and both sides suffered the deaths of many good men, before the moon had passed through one full cycle the army of Mythar had been defeated, and choosing death as more honourable than defeat, Prince Saotuathaa fell upon his sword before he could be captured.

Having no descendants, rule of Mythar reverted to the cousin of the late Prince, who found no dishonour in accepting the offer to rule over the land in the name of Lord Boroma Phanomyong, Favoured Son of the Great God Xiu, Fierce Tiger of the Jungle, Defender of the People, and Master Over all That Is, Was, and Will Be, for he would never have become a ruler had the natural order of things had been allowed to play out, and so the Principality of Mythar became the great province of Mythar, one of many great provinces in the Land of the Tiger Eye. The men of the villages who had been captured returned to their villages, delighted to find them standing, and their loved ones unharmed, and they paid homage to their new Lord, for life for the common man under Lord Phanomyong was really not much different from life under the late Prince Saotuathaa.

And so Lord Phanomyong headed back to Chiangmai, rising before the sun and riding until it disappeared below the horizon each day, and though there were those who would claim he missed the Land of the Tiger Eye, and others who would claim he missed his wife or this or that concubine, those who knew their Lord, knew whom he missed, and that was a slight young boy with dark black hair, skin the colour of butterscotch, and large, dark brown, almond-shaped eyes.

Although it was evening when he arrived at his palace, and he was tired and sore, he went directly to his bedchamber and sent for the Chosen One, who arrived in an open khaki-coloured vest and khaki-coloured pants as if he were a soldier in the Lord's army, and carried with him his wicker basket.

"My Lord," he greeted, bowing low and respectfully, as one would expect, but when he looked up there was a smile of affection and in his eyes the look of one who had greatly missed the other.

"I see you have brought your basket of magic balms," the Lord said with a whimsical smile, but he too could not hide his joy at seeing the Chosen One after all these days.

"The magic is that the gods have returned you safely to Chiangmai, my Lord," the boy replied respectfully as he bowed his head.

"Well, it will take magic to make me forget the aches and pains of this old body," the warrior-lord replied. "You would not by chance really be an old magician in the guise of a boy, would you?"

"I am but your humble servant," the boy responded with a boyish giggle, his dark brown eyes sparkling with merriment. "I am nothing more than your Chosen One, selected to bring you pleasure. But I do have, my Lord, an oil and a massage that the brother of my mother has told me can sooth the muscles and the mind."

"And would you have me, the Favoured Son of the Great God Xiu and the Fierce Tiger of the Jungle who has caused the death of a Prince and obtained the wealth of a mighty principality, lay on my back and allow my limbs to be bound to my bed, or to assume the position of the fish by your command?" Lord Phanomyong asked with a smile.

"For this massage, my Lord, I would tie you to your bed in a prone position," the boy said with all the seriousness that only a young boy can express.

Lord Phanomyong laughed with such a bellow that the guard at the door started. "Come then," he announced, "but if we are to please me this night, let us warriors remove our clothing, and let us cleanse this body and this throat of the dust of the road first." Calling for a bowl of warm water and a wash cloth and for rice wine for himself and coconut milk for the boy, the warrior-lord tossed off his travel clothes while the boy stepped out of the uniform the elderly woman who had become his teacher and his servant had chosen for him.

So Lord Phanomyong took out a mat and sat lotus style on the floor while the Chosen One wet the cloth and wiped the dust of the road from his master's body and the master drank the rice wine and the Chosen One drank his coconut milk. The warrior-lord then lie on the bed on his stomach, and the boy tied his wrists and his ankles to the four corner posts of the bed, though this time loosely. He then opened his wicker basket and took out one of the brown earthenware jars and opened it. Although he could not see it, Lord Phanomyong knew what the oil was as the sharp, camphoric odour of the oil of eucalyptus assaulted his nose and caused his eyes to water.

Pouring a small amount of the oil in his palm and rubbing his palms together, the boy knelt on the bed beside his Lord and began to massage his right hand, wrapping his fingers around each digit and pulling on it as a farm lad might milk a goat. He continued on, massaging the tendons and chords along the back of his hand, and then firmly kneading and massaging his forearms and biceps of both arms. The boy had noticed his Lord had lost some of his underarm fat, and that his arm muscles were much more solid than the last time he had massaged them.

He continued on to the warrior-lord's shoulders, and the man sighed as the boy worked the knots and tenseness out of his muscles. With an expertise that no concubine could begin to meet, the boy prodded and caressed, kneaded and squeezed, and worked the oil into his master's cramped muscles, and slowly the stiffness and weariness disappeared. The large bruises on his hips, and the deeper cuts to his legs the boy was careful to avoid, knowing the eucalyptus would only further irritate them. Gradually the Lord began to feel relaxed, and gradually his stiffness and pain disappeared. The way he had felt earlier that evening as he'd ridden into Chiangmai, he would never have imagined it possible.

He also began to feel the stirring of arousal in his loins, and although he had wished such a thing would happen, he hadn't for a moment thought it would really be possible after such a long and strenuous ride. The deftness of the boy's fingers as he touched first one and then another pleasure zone caused Lord Phanomyong to marvel at his skill and caused ripples of erotic pleasure to caress his body. Slipping his hand between his Lord's outspread legs, the boy found his swelling member and pulled it back so that pointed toward his feet as it would in its usual position, it peaked out from beneath the warrior-lord's large nut sack.

The boy's oiled hands ran over his master's buttocks, kneading them as a woman might knead two lumps of dough, and caressing them as a man might caress the breasts of his concubine. Gradually the stiffness from hours of sitting in the saddle faded and was replaced by a ticklish arousal that resulted in a welcome stiffness elsewhere. The boy continued down to massage his Lord's thighs, easing the strain of straddling his warhorse from sunrise to sunset, and causing ripples of arousal to speed along the Sen from his Lord's thighs to his member, which began to throb with desire. He continued on, massaging his master's calves and his feet and easing their soreness from supporting his weight and the weight of his armour.

The boy's slight fingers danced along the backs of his master's sensitive inner thighs, barely touching them and causing his swollen member to quiver and ooze out the first droplet of pre-cum. Lord Phanomyong had not engaged in sex since leaving Chiangmai, not even with the most beautiful of the women who were willing to thank their new Lord for his compassion in not taking the lives of their fathers or brothers. And, as tempted as he was, he did not sample the dark black boys of the villages he passed through on the way home, not even when the elders had heard of his particular delight in the bedchamber and had offered the choicest boys in the village in thanks for not ravaging their woman or pillaging their crops.

So after long abstinence his one-eyed cobra was quick to spit its clear venom. The boy reached down and with his first finger he spread that clear droplet over the reddish-purple plum of his master. Feeling the boy's fingertip gently spreading his clear offering over his knob, the warrior-lord responded by producing more, which the boy spread further over his master's reddish-purple plum. The feel of his sticky juice on the head of his cock, the pressure of the boy's finger, and the sharp bite of the eucalyptus oil, like the bite of a winter storm, was highly erotic. Lord Phanomyong's breathing grew heavier as the stimulation of his glans rippled down one of the shortest of his Sen to trigger a response in his swelling nuts. He closed his eyes and concentrated on that stimulation, willing himself to ejaculate. As he felt the need increasing in his loins, he concentrated all the harder.

Closer and closer he felt himself approaching that point as the boy continued to run a single fingertip over his exposed glans. Deeper and deeper his breathing became as the tension built up in his loins and he was sure this time that he was going to ejaculate. Suddenly the boy's forefinger jabbed at the base of his nut sack and he groaned loudly as the urge to shoot out his seed was thwarted. He tried to shake loose of the boy's finger but no matter how he twisted or raised his hips in the air and crashed them back down on the bed, the boy's first finger remained pressing down on the spot as if it was attached to his body.

His desire having faded away, he concentrated on the massage of his buttocks as the boy ran his fingertips lightly over his backside once again. Within a short time, he found himself rapidly approaching that point of ejaculation once more. His long period of abstinence had heightened his sensitivity, making the pleasure of his erection and the approach of his orgasm all the more intense. Figuring the boy would be surprised at his quick recovery, he very slowly and carefully began to rock his body while the boy massaged his buttocks and his back. He concentrated on the pleasure of his throbbing cock pinned under his body and protruding between his legs rubbing against the satin sheets of his bed, and memories of hours of such pleasure during his teenage years heightened his pleasure.

As he approached his climax once again, he smiled at his deviousness, but then a man who could out strategy a neighbouring Prince should be able to out strategy a mere boy who had not yet reached the Age of Coming. Slowly he rocked his body to and fro as best he could under the restraints of his bonds, pressing his stiff member against the smooth sheets. In its pinned position, he pushed it toward his feet as he thrust his hips down and then dragged it back as he drew his hips forward, the boy dutifully massaging his buttocks as he gyrated his hips and unaware of his intention. Closer and closer he approached until he inhaled sharply, and drove his body downward only to feel the sudden pressure of the boy's finger below his swollen pomegranates once more. He wanted to scream as his body was racked with his second dry orgasm so soon after the first. He wanted to scream with the pleasure of his orgasm, and he wanted to scream angrily because of the pleasure denied him. He arched his body and gritted his teeth with the sweet pain, made all the more torturous but the unexpected thwarting of his plan, and made all the more powerful riding on the waves of his first dry orgasm.

"Did my Lord find pleasure in this evening?" the boy asked sometime later with a whisper, his warm breath blowing in his master's ear.

"The Chosen One has done what he said he would, and has done it well," Lord Phanomyong replied with a sigh. "Untie me and lay here with me, so I may feel your smooth body curled up in front of mine, and I swear in the name of the Great God Xiu, I shall make no attempt to take your virginity."

And so the boy untied him, and curled up in the curvature of his body, and drifted off to sleep, for he knew his Lord was a man who kept his word. In the early morning, that time of day when the sprites and tricksters of field and hearth are about while good and honest men sleep their deepest sleep, Lord Phanomyong awoke, and feeling the need to pass water, he slipped from the bed, and taking his chamber pot, relieved himself in a corner so as not to awaken the boy. As he was about to lie down again, he spotted the boy's wicker basket beside the bed, and curious, he crouched down and raised the lid.

It was an action he questioned at the last second, but it was too late. Glancing at the contents of the tiny basket, he quickly closed the lid, regretting his actions even though what he had seen was not something that came as a surprise. The boy's wicker basket could only contain so many jars of oils, and the pleasures he was providing had to come to an end at some time. It was the physical confirmation, the reality of seeing the jars lined up in the basket, that forced the Fierce Tiger of the Jungle to accept the reality of his situation. Inside in two neat rows, were six small earthenware jars. That left only two they had not yet sampled.

Chapter Seven
Peppermint

The Chosen Ones were chosen for one purpose, to bring him pleasure, and that the boy had done from the moment he had arrived. During the day the boy's beauty and his behaviour had made Lord Phanomyong the envy of his nobles and the leaders of other lands, and that pleased the warrior-lord greatly. In the evenings he had brought a different kind of joy, one which had been totally unexpected, and the uniqueness of that joy and the delay in the pleasure that the Fierce Tiger of the Jungle had in mind had only heightened his ardour. No boy had done that before. Nor had any boy before the Chosen One from Nongkhai ever brought him pleasure that increased from one day to the next. Had records been kept, they would have shown for the Chosen Ones in the past, after that first evening, the pleasure they brought began to wane, faster for some than for others.

Lord Phanomyong began to pace. Even on the rainy day he had chosen the youngster, he had known that there would be a time when the boy would cease to please him. Even as they began this game of making each evening greater than the time before, he had known that there would be a time when it would come to an end. A man can be brought to within a breath of that peak of greatest joy only so many times after which denying him that ultimate pleasure becomes a torture. A man can experience a dry orgasm for only so many times and in so many ways before it is not a pleasure, but a disappointment.

He had known these things, but in the back of his mind he had hoped like a foolish child that the strange relationship they had developed could go on forever, that each night would bring delights even greater than the night before. Seeing that there were only two jars of oil left had shocked his mind back to the reality that their strange relationship had to come to an end. After two more jars the boy would no longer be able to please him with this strange and wonderful new form of Nuad Bo-Rarn, and the boy would dutifully bend over and provide him that greatest pleasure, that pleasure which, in his opinion, was the whole purpose of making boys. Knowing that time was approaching should have made him happy, but it did not, and that was the most bothersome thing of all. The Defender of the People was still pacing the floor when the sun arose and his personal attendant arrived as he did every morning for his bath.

Lord Phanomyong had decided only moments earlier that the solution to his problem was to avoid the boy and thus delay the inevitable even though after their latest experience he desired the warm moistness of the boy's sheath even more than ever. To provide him that ultimate of pleasures was why the boy had been chosen in the first place, and to sink his shaft up this boy's tight, virgin chute would surpass the joys that all Chosen Ones before him had provided. It would also be a joy that could never be surpassed, and so every experience afterward could only bring him less and less pleasure, until the boy could please him no more. Such had been the fates of hundreds of Chosen Ones before this one, and the only way to delay the inevitable, would be to avoid seeing the boy. Of course he knew the end would eventually come, but it gave him time, and the warrior knew that sometimes just a day could alter the direction that a man's life took.

As he bathed, he thought further on his decision, and wondered why the gods had created this dilemma for him, and why at this time. He wondered if perhaps he had been lead to this Chosen One so that the boy might bring him the motivation and clarity of mind he had needed in order to successfully invade the Principality of Mythar. He wondered if now that the invasion was over, if the boy's time was also over. There had been other Chosen Ones whose time had been as short, or even shorter. Perhaps the gods had provided him this strangest of Chosen Ones so that he could acquire the lands to the south and extend his boy tithe to the black-skinned boys of his new province. Having succeeded, perhaps he was to enjoy the tender, tight sheaths of the best of the boys in this new land as his reward. If that was his destiny, and the destiny of the boys who were yet to provide him that pleasure, then he should not fight the will of the gods, for they knew what was right, and he being a mere mortal could not expect to defeat them.

So, as he stepped out of his bath, he reversed his decision. He would not avoid the boy nor hide him away so he would not be tempted. The gods had created the boy so he could be seen and so his master could delight in the pleasures he had to offer. One does not purchase a beautiful painting only to lock it away in a dark room so one will not be tempted to gaze upon it. So, it was with sadness but with the resolve that made him the most powerful leader yet in the Land of the Tiger Eye, that he decided he would be wrong to delay enjoying the pleasures that the Chosen One had yet to offer him, and as such to delay the boy's inevitable death and reward in Heaven. Such was the will of the gods, and such was the boy's duty and his destiny.

And so the boy joined him for breakfast that morning in powder blue silk pajamas and an open vest of the same fine material and colour as he had ordered. After breakfast he accompanied his master to the audience chamber, where he stood a respectful three steps behind his throne and poured his rice wine while his master received the First Minister for a report on how the land had faired in his absence. The Favourite Son of the Great God Xiu was particularly interested in the status of the economy as a result of the war, and in any grievances that had been raised by those who were less loyal in the hopes of getting their way in his absence. He was pleased to hear that the coffers of the Land of the Tiger Eye had in fact increased as a result of the war, and that only two men had come to make special petitions, and they were two that he had suspected of disloyalty for several cycles of the moon. Despite the good news, his mind dwelled on the limited time he had left to enjoy the pleasure of the beautiful boy from Nongkhai, and that, despite his acceptance of the will of the gods, was far more depressing than the First Minister's news was exulting.

The boy was quick of mind and especially observant, and he noticed his master's distress, but he knew not the cause of it. For the rest of the morning he poured his master's tea and delivered his written orders to the clerk outside the door but he could discern no cause for his master's black mood. In the afternoon he stood respectfully by, aware of the leers and the desires of the nobles from strange lands who came to pay homage to his master, but even that did little to lift his master's spirits. In the late part of the afternoon, he accompanied his Lord in a leisurely tour of the city, the two of them borne aloft in a canopied sedan carried by six tall, muscular men whose bodies had been shaved and oiled so they glistened in the sun. The people bowed low with respect, and they glanced at him covertly with curiosity, and some with desire, and he saw the people's interest in him pleased his master who had otherwise been sullen and depressed all day.

That evening they had a lavish banquet of foodstuffs he had never heard of before, foodstuffs from the new great Province of Mythar, and of foodstuffs that had become his favourites. Lord Phanomyong tried to enjoy his repast, but knowing that after this night there would be but one oil left weighed heavily on his mind. So, it was no surprise that he developed a tremendous ache in his head and was as tense as a virgin on her wedding night as they retired to the bedchamber after their meal

"My Lord has been melancholy all day," the boy observed, accustomed now to speaking his mind despite his young age.

"Yes," the warrior-lord admitted, trying not to look as depressed as he felt. The boy was perceptive, but then he'd known that from the first evening they had spent together.

"Well," the boy observed cheerfully as if his Lord's sadness was a minor thing and could be easily rectified. "That is why I was chosen, so that I might bring my Lord pleasure whenever he desires it, so that the burdens of the Defender of the People might be lessoned in order that he might have the strength to continue to rule justly and fairly over the Land of the Tiger Eye."

"It would be a miracle if you could bring pleasure to me on this night," Lord Phanomyong said sadly.

"Such is my duty, my Lord," the boy responded. "And this night I shall bring you pleasure greater than any pleasure you have ever felt before."

"If the pleasure of your massage is like nothing I have ever before experienced, then you can be no mere boy but must be the wisest and greatest sage in the land."

"I am just a boy," the Chosen One responded solemnly, "and it is my duty to please. If I fail to bring my Lord pleasure greater than any pleasure of the bedchamber he has experienced before, then I bring dishonour upon myself and my family and my ancestors." The boy paused for a moment and then looked directly in his master's eyes. "If I do not bring my Lord pleasure like he has never before felt this night, I will throw myself upon my master's sword of flesh and pierce my own body," he declared sternly, his eyes narrowing with resolve.

Despite his melancholy, the warrior-lord had to smile at that daring oath. All youth are of the opinion they are invincible, that they can succeed at whatever they strive to do. That was one of the many things that drew him to young boys, and one of the many things that brought him pleasure outside that of the bedchamber. He had been of the same belief as a boy, and he still was of that belief. It was that belief that had allowed him to rule over advisors and elders with experience and wisdom far beyond his. That was the belief that allowed him to declare war on his neighbours and to bring them to their knees. It was also obviously a belief that this Chosen One believed particularly strongly in, and another facet that endeared him to this boy more than to any before him.

"Then come, harden my sword with your fire," he said, determined to take the same attitude as the boy and to look fate in the eye and determine his own destiny. "What shall it be tonight, tied to my bed supine or prone?"

"My Lord, the brother of my mother was teaching me a position he called the viparita-karani, the reverse pose, when you arrived in my village. I have not had time to practice it, but I think it is the pose most fitting for tonight."

And so Lord Phanomyong removed his robe and set the Sands of Delight and then lay on his back with his hands along his sides and his feet together. He then, with the help of the boy, raised his legs and buttocks off the bed. Placing his thumbs just under his hip bone and his fingers around the back of his hips to steady himself, he continued to bend at the waist until his legs were reversed parallel to his body and his knees were above his head. For a man of his girth it was not an easy position and the boy quickly tied a silk scarf about each wrist and tied the two scarves together around his master's waist so he could not lower his arms if he wanted to. The third scarf he tied around his master's legs and the fourth scarf was tied to that scarf and then to the headboard of the bed so that his Lord was laying on his shoulder blades and staring up at his knees. By the time the boy was done both he and his master were panting with exertion, and his master had begun to sweat.

The boy quickly removed his fine silk clothing so it would not be stained and put on his simple white thong before opening his basket of oils which had been delivered to the room for him as they had the previous night. For this night the boy chose oil of peppermint. Unlike the previous nights, he went directly to his master's thick cock, which was hanging downward along his fat stomach and directly in his line of vision. The boy played with the warrior-lord's one-eyed snake as if it were a toy, raising it so it was parallel with his legs and then releasing it and watching it drop back down parallel to his master's stomach. He squeezed it and stroked it, and as it began to swell he pushed it back down against the man's fat stomach and then watched it as it slowly rose. He shook it and slowly pumped it with his hot little hand, and then grasping the flaccid snake by the neck he rubbed its head on the man's fat stomach. He slowly pulled down the snake's hood and watched it slip back up over its head and he giggled with boyish delight and repeated the action.

Pealing back the skin for the sixth time, he held it back with one hand as he poured a bit of the almost colourless oil of peppermint over the exposed knob. He gently spread the oil over the man's spongy plum. The purple-red fruit glistened in the candlelight, and as the boy moved and stirred the air, it caused the warrior-lord's knob to feel as it might had it been plunged in the ice-cold water of a mountain stream, and the tingling sensation caused it to immediately become erect. As the boy began to massage the fat erection, his newly oiled fingers transferred the oil of peppermint to the warrior-lord's shaft, which similarly felt chilled and began to tingle in a strange and new way.

The boy began to slowly polish his master's cane as he had the previous nights, and the cool sensation of the oil of peppermint combined with his master's long abstinence from that which he enjoyed the most and the friction of the boy's small, hot hand resulted in the inevitable. The Fierce Tiger of the Jungle inhaled sharply as he approached his climax and the peppermint-scented air caused even his mouth to feel cool as he sucked it in. The boy pumped his fist slowly and rhythmically a dozen more strokes and then at the last possible moment he released his grip on his master's shaft. Without the heat of the boy's hand and the friction of his fist, the warrior-lord's massive cock suddenly felt very chilled. As he tried desperately to release his seed, his engorged snake jerked in the air, and the movement made it feel colder still, distracting his mind from his lust and dampening his desire. Lord Phanomyong glanced over at the Sands of Delight and was surprised to see only the first vial had emptied.

Applying more oil to his palms, the boy sat down on his heels and began massaging his master's chest, firmly caressing it and working the oil into his flesh. His chest, and especially his sensitive nipples, suddenly felt cold, just like his cock, and the strange sensation heightened his arousal. The boy's small, hot fingers were surprisingly strong for a boy his age, and as they squeezed and released his Lord's chest muscles, the warrior-lord felt his tension slowly dissipate as lust began to swell up in his throbbing member and his teats began to tingle as if a cold mountain breeze was blowing over them. It was not a true cold, and as the boy stimulated his nipples the warrior-lord began to sweat, the reaction of the peppermint having been quickly absorbed by his body through the sensitive membrane of his glans and his tender nipples.

Wrapping his slender and skilled fingers about his master's throbbing cock a second time, the boy began to massage it again, working his fist up and down the solid tube of flesh slowly and purposefully, bringing his Lord that familiar pleasure that all men and boys know and desire. Lord Phanomyong inhaled deeply, inhaling the fragrance of the oil of peppermint, and he sighed with the unique joy of having a young, beautiful boy spanking his monkey. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the pleasure throbbing through his long, thick staff and said a quick prayer of thanks to Ixichan.

The Chosen One brought his Lord to his second and then his third pleasure peak, each time bringing him dangerously close to coming and then releasing his master's cock at the last moment and leaving it to twitch and ache for an orgasm that the warrior-lord could not reach. Although at the summit of each peak Lord Phanomyong desperately wanted to climax, he also found great pleasure in the rhythm of being brought to that summit and then allowed to regain his control before being brought to the next peak of frustration and delight.

Sweat trickled down his sides and pooled under his body, and sweat glistened on his smooth, oiled chest. The Chosen One was sweating also, the exertion causing perspiration to bead on his forehead and causing his smooth underarms to become damp. Lord Phanomyong inhaled deeply with his arousal, and the fragrance of a hot, sweating, young boy filled his lungs and intensified his ecstasy as he approached his climax for the fourth time.

As the boy's hot, sweaty body pressed against his, he strained to ejaculate his seed and he hoped that the boy might bring him at least to his dry climax, but instead the boy released his throbbing snake and drawing back, looked down at him and at his twitching, leaking cock. As he trembled and tried to will himself to ejaculate even though he knew it was futile, he glanced down and saw the boy's little member had risen up. The peppermint oil and the sweat from their bodies having soaked through the thin material of his thong, the thin cloth clung to his tiny reed and clearly showed its slender shaft and the slightly larger cone at the top.

Grasping his Lord's irritated organ once again, the boy began to beat it furiously, pumping his fist up and down the length of his cock from his delicate eggs to his pee-slit in a manner used by many young boys on themselves to bring themselves to that undescribable pleasure of dry release as fast as possible, not having been trained in the finer art of masturbation. Unaccustomed to such rough abuse, the irritated member of the Fierce Tiger of the Jungle burned as if being skinned and in what seemed to be a matter of a few breaths he was ready to shoot his seed once more. Once again the boy sat back and watched as the man's snake jerked about wildly in a desperate attempt to spit. Lord Phanomyong pushed out with his hips, causing the silk binding about his ankles to loosen while the silk scarf binding his arms cut into his fat stomach and tightened about his wrists.

The warrior-lord's breath had not yet completely returned to normal when the young boy slipped his hands about his master's organ and began to beat it for the sixth time. The Fierce Tiger of the Jungle was perspiring profusely now and aching to release a load so badly that his swollen gourds were ready to release their contents again in less time than it took a man to cross the Grand Hall where he held his public audiences. This time the boy continued to stroke, and just as he was sure he was going to release his seed, he felt the boy's first finger jab him directly below his nut sack. He pushed his hips forward, causing the silk scarf to go slack, and then collapsed back, and the weight of his fat buttocks tightened the silk scarf about his ankles. He grunted with the ecstasy rippling through his body and the great Lord twisted and jerked his hips even though he knew that squirming would tighten his bonds and cut off his circulation. His breath came in gasps, and sweat trickled down his sides and ran down his fat cheeks. Glancing over at the chronometer when he finally stopped squirming, he was surprised to find almost six of the eight vials had emptied.

As the boy began to pump his cock for the seventh time, the warrior-lord inhaled the fresh fragrance of the peppermint deeply, and ached for his climax to the point of begging. With each stroke of the boy's hand he trembled with the exotic ripples pulsating through his stiff cock, and he once again felt the tension in his groin increase until he was sure he was about to burst. With his other hand the boy began to stroke the sensitive insides of his thighs. The stimulation of his thighs combined with the pumping of his stiff, irritated cock caused the Fierce Tiger of the Jungle to jerk about uncontrollably like a droplet of water bouncing on a hot metal plate. This time he was sure he was going to shoot his seed, but again at the last moment the boy's sharp finger pressed against that spot under his nut sack and he trembled and cried out with the ecstasy of his second dry climax, this one even stronger and lasting longer than the first one. As the ripples of ecstasy pulsated though his cock he whimpered with delight and almost swooned from the lack of blood in his head, most of it having pooled in his throbbing cock. The pleasure lasted for a very long time and the boy knelt there on the bed and patiently waited, his little reed jutting out his thong and aching for attention itself.

With his breathing almost back to normal, Lord Phanomyong inhaled and exhaled deeply, relishing the scent of sex in the air and the rhythmic throbbing of his swollen cock. Glancing over at the Sands of Delight, he was not surprised to see the sixth vial had emptied. As he inhaled deeply, he had to admit that this evening was even better than the previous one, a thing he had not thought possible. Assuming the boy was done, he was surprised when the boy dipped his forefinger in the oil and began to massage that most private and rarest seen spot of all but which was openly exposed in his present position. The boy's tiny finger and the cool effect of the oil on the tender opening caused him to squirm with desire still another time. As the fingertips of the boy's left hand danced lightly across his expansive buttocks and the first finger of his right hand firmly massaged his now quivering pucker, the Protector of the People contracted his stomach and his aroused portal as he strained to shoot his seed. The eye of his snake opened and closed as he clenched and relaxed his anus and he grunted and gasped for breath as he desperately sought relief. The hot, firm grasp of the boy's hand about his irritated organ as it rhythmically pumped up and down his swollen member was delightful and he felt his nut sack begin to contract and his cock go numb. This time! Just as he was about to cry out with the release of his seed, the boy's finger jabbed him under the nut sack once again and he trembled like a man having a seizure as he reached his third and most powerful dry orgasm. He thrust out his hips and pulled them back as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over his body, but no matter how hard he willed it, he could not release his seed. He screamed with the ecstasy exploding between his legs and in his mind and contracted his body so that his knees almost struck his nose. Although he had become accustomed to the noises in the bedchamber with this newest Chosen One, the guard outside Lord Phanomyong's door was sorely tempted to slide it open to ensure his master was not being assassinated.

So powerful was the orgasm of the Favourite Son of the Great God Xiu that he was only numbly aware of the boy untying his bonds some vague time later and making his exit out of the room. He lay there for a long time without moving, his large, naked body awash in a mind-numbing bliss like he would never have imagined possible.

Chapter Eight
Ylang Ylang

To mark the significance of this dreaded and yet most desired of all occasions, and to provide the Chosen One a special treat for the many pleasures he had brought in the past, besides to cheer himself up knowing this was the last of the boy's oils and the last day of a most remarkable and unexpected experience, he ordered a special meal be prepared for the two of them. They began with spicy deep-fried crab rolls in a thin wonton wrapper, followed by a sweet noodle and vegetable soup consisting of long, thin, ribbon-like noodles made of ground mung beans, tiger lily buds, wild onions, snow peas, and crispy egg threads. For the main course there were three dishes, a large clay pot of turmeric-yellow chicken curry in a spice laden sauce containing licorice, garlic, and pepper; a hot red curry with red chilies and eel; and a large platter of fish dumplings in a peanut sauce. For dessert they concluded with a plate of freshly picked strawberries and sliced honeydew melon and rice pudding with fresh milk and a sprinkling of cinnamon.

Following their meal, they retired immediately to the bedchamber, Lord Phanomyong being eager to see this most blessed and most cursed day come to a close. He disrobed and once again lay on his back and allowed his wrists and ankles to be tied to the bed posts with silk scarves just as that first night. The Chosen One also removed his fine clothing, folding each item neatly and stacking them on the footstool as he'd been instructed. This night, as though knowing it was special, he added his thong to the neat pile of silk clothing before taking out his last earthenware jar. When he opened it, the unmistakable delicate floral fragrance of ylang ylang filled the air. Pale yellow, intensely exotic and creamy, he applied the oil to his palms, and then began to massage his Lord's chest. The mild fragrance of the oil, combined with the fresh, clean fragrance of the boy, soon had Lord Phanomyong fully aroused although the boy had only begun his massage and the first of the eight vials of the Sands of Delight had not yet drained.

Seeing his Lord's erect member, the boy toyed with it, pushing it down between his legs and allowing it to spring back up, pressing it against his wide belly and rubbing the knob against its broad expanse, and just sitting with his legs crossed and watching the one-eyed snake jerk in the air impatiently. He drew the skin back with his thumb and first finger, and let it creep back up over the plum. Over and over he pulled the skin back and released it, and gradually his Lord's cock grew still thicker and the skin became taut.

The boy poured oil on his finger tips and caressed his Lord's egg sack, gently caressing those sensitive eggs contained within with his left hand while his right just barely touched and gently caressed the opening of his Lord's swollen member. The Fierce Tiger of the Jungle inhaled deeply with his growing arousal and his snake jerked excitedly, impatient for the boy to grasp it in his hot little hand and begin massaging it. The boy instead sat there and teased its quivering opening and caressed the eggs below it, but not once did he grasp it by the base nor caress the sensitive ridge of its head. Then just as his master felt his pre-cum about to ooze out, the boy sat back and waited as his Lord's cock wagged in the air angrily.

Once his master's monster stopped waving in the air, he reached over and lightly wrapping his fingers about the thick beast just above its eggs, he ever so slowly drew his fist up to just below the sensitive skin below the beast's head and then he slid his fingers down again, just barely making contact with the skin. He paused frequently so that an entire vial drained before he sensed that his Lord was about to ejaculate and he withdrew his fingers.

The third time he played only with his Lord's spongy plum, gently running his generously oiled finger over its surface, and once again stopping just as his Lord was on the verge of producing his first droplet of pre-cum. Each time the boy resumed teasing his master's irritated organ his master's desire became more intense than the previous time and the longer he had to wait before resuming. This time the boy waited until the thick, throbbing cock almost went limp before reaching out and wrapping his hand about it.

By this time he had so primed the thick organ that the mere touch of his hot, little hand caused the irritated member to begin leaking. Instead of ignoring his master's pre-cum as he had in the past, when the first clear droplet oozed out of his Lord's sensitive slit, he wiped off the tip of his finger on the bed sheet and then flicked the clear droplet off his master's throbbing pillar. Glancing over at his Lord as he extended his tongue, he dabbed the tip with the exotic nectar from his Lord's loins and gave his Lord a sensuous smile. Lust smoldered in his deep chocolate brown eyes, causing his master to produce a second droplet, which the boy once again flicked up with his first finger. Looking directly in his master's eyes, he licked off his finger tip.

Enjoying himself now, he gently ran his finger along the ridge of his master's knob, causing a generous dollop of pre-cum to ooze out of the aroused fountain. Gathering it on the tip of his finger, he painted his smooth lips with his master's nectar and then licked them as he looked down at his Lord with his sensuous, chocolate brown eyes, causing the Favourite Son of the Great God Xiu to thrust up his hips and his cock to jerk about wildly as he strained to ejaculate. Unable to do so, his member wagged furiously, scolding the impertinent boy for his lack of consideration.

Flicking up his master's pre-cum for the fourth time, the naked boy slid up along the bed, and with his eyes smoldering with lust, he bent over and painted his Lord's lips with his own sweet nectar. Returning to the fount of that nectar, the boy wrapped his fingers about it more firmly and began to pump his fist up and down its length in earnest. More pre-cum oozed out as Lord Phanomyong's cock throbbed hotly in the boy's hand and ripples of pleasure flowed from his Sen to all parts of his body. After the previous foreplay it only took a dozen strokes for the tension to build up in his loins and he groaned and twisted with that pleasure that only men can know.

Closer and closer he came to that peak and with the taste of his own nectar on his lips, the warrior-lord was brought to his first dry climax. He threw back his head and groaned and gasped with the ecstasy exploding in his loins. He sucked in the fragrant floral scent of the ylang ylang and his chest swelled and collapsed as that painful pleasure swept through his mind. As he began to recover, he glanced over at the naked boy. He too was breathing deeply from the exertion of arousing his master, and from his own arousal. His tiny worm, the length and thickness of his master's large toe, was curved up along his naked pubes, the tight skin still pulled over his dark plum so that only the very tip was visible. How Lord Phanomyong longed to reach over and grasp it between his thumb and large fat fingers.

Having barely recovered, he was delighted to feel the boy's small hand wrap about his organ and begin pumping it again, bringing him back to that exquisite peak only to once again jab his finger at the base of his throbbing cock where it joined his eggs and cutting off his ejaculation for a second time. He cried out with the multiple spasms of arousal pulsating through his irritated flesh and through his mind, and he panted and gasped for breath as his heart pounded in his chest.

The boy was panting with exertion and arousal also, and his little stiff cocklet jerked and ached with an itch that demanded its share of attention, but the boy knew he dare not touch himself in the presence of his Lord. So he lay down on his side beside his master and propped himself up on his right elbow to look down into his Lord's face with lust-filled eyes. His sweet boy breath blew in the warrior-lord's mouth as his lips hovered but never touched his Lord's and the two inhaled and exhaled each other's breath until at long last they began to breathe regularly.

The boy once again sat up, and sitting back on his heels beside his Lord, he reached once again for that pillar of pleasure. He stared at it with full concentration as he slowly pushed the tight foreskin up over the ripe plum, and then slowly drew the skin back down until it was fully exposed. With each stroke the warrior-lord quivered with delight, his body totally under the control of the slender boy with skin the colour of butterscotch and eyes the shape of almonds. He groaned and he sighed with the immense pleasure throbbing through his irritated organ as the seventh vial began to drain.

He approached his third orgasm with eager anticipation, the tension in his loins and his need to ejaculate doubling with each stroke of his throbbing shaft. Closer and closer he approached that peak of ecstasy where his hot, throbbing cock went numb and moments later that hollow ache up the core of his member announced the imminent release of his seed. He inhaled and exhaled with long, deep breaths as his massive body tensed for that moment when the Chosen One would jab his hard, pointed finger under his nut sack and cut off his release. This time the boy did not.

At first his mind did not believe it, and then with a yell of delight like a maiden being pierced by a man's pleasure pole for the first time, he thrust his hips upward as he felt his pomegranates contract and a sharp twang deep in his groin finally announce the release of his seed. It gushed up the core of his member with a sharp, burning pleasure, hot white lava rising up the narrow core of a throbbing volcano. With his hips still thrust in the air, he inhaled with a loud gasp of pleasure as his seed shot into the air and fell back down to flow hotly over his swollen plum like a thick cream sauce, collecting in the rim formed by his foreskin and the young boy's fist, and overflowing over the back of the boy's small hand and on down to form pearly ribbons over his tight, swollen nut sack.

The aroma of roasted chestnuts blended in with the delicate floral fragrance and then overpowered it. He sucked in the fragrant air, delighting in the aroma of his fresh seed as he at last lowered his hips. His cock throbbed with hot delight, continuing to pump out the seed that his pomegranates had been forced to hold back for so long, and he quivered and sighed with the greatest pleasure he had ever known.

The boy waited until his master's violent climax subsided, and then he slowly and gently began to milk out the remaining cum, giving his Lord still further pleasure as he squeezed and tugged on the thick, now pleasantly throbbing organ. He ran his tongue between his dry lips as he sat there cross-legged and watched the hot, sticky cream flow out of his master's cock and down over his thumb and fingers with each upward stroke. When at last he could milk out no more, he released his Lord's thick snake and his hand dropped to his lap. His little reed was still erect, the result of sharing in his Lord's violent ejaculation, and the second the boy slipped his hot fingers slick with his master's warm, sticky cream about his slender, stiff reed and squeezed it, the boy trembled uncontrollably with the exquisite joy of the most powerful dry climax of his young life.

Much later, after they had both recovered, the boy untied his master and then lay down beside him. The two inhaled the blended fragrance of fresh seed and ylang ylang and closed their eyes with pleasure. The boy's small, naked body pressed up against the solid bulk of his Lord, and his master slipped a large arm about the slight boy and drew him close. The boy marvelled at the wondrous cream his Lord had shot from his staff, and at the mysterious pleasure that had erupted from his own loins and had caused him to tremble like an aspen leaf and his head to spin dizzily like he had twirled his body until he could no longer stand. The warrior-lord too marvelled at a climax like he had never before experienced, but with his awe at its power and immense pleasure, and with his profound joy at having experienced such ecstasy, was a dark shadow of sadness.

"So," he said at long last and with a deep sigh, "though I am saddened that the pleasures of your Nuad Bo-Rarn have come to an end, this evening was a fit crowning of your accomplishment and proof of your exquisite skill."

"Come to an end my Lord?" the boy asked, raising himself on his elbow and looking into his Lord's eyes with surprise and great concern. "Did I not please my Lord more than any other night?"

"Yes, you did," Lord Phanomyong said with a smile. "But I know that this night you have used the last of your oils."

"I have, my Lord," the boy admitted, "but this was not the last of the pleasures that I can bring you."

"Oh?" Lord Phanomyong responded in surprise. "How can that possibly be?"

"Why, my Lord, we have only begun," the boy replied. "We have but experienced my oils and massages one at a time. We have yet to combine them. If the essence of one oil brought my Lord pleasure, would not the essence of two together double that pleasure? And, my Lord, after we have tried all combinations of two, then why not three, and then four?"

Lord Phanomyong quickly calculated the number of possible combinations of the six oils. Fifty-seven. Could it be that they could have fifty-seven more days of pleasure, each one more intense than the next? That was impossible, but then had he been told of the wondrous evenings he would spend with this young boy from Nongkhai two cycles of the moon past he would have declared such a thing impossible also.

"And when we have exhausted my simple supply of six oils, the brother of my mother knows the use of many more oils, for this is but one of six baskets he intended on teaching me. Before you arrived at our village, he had spoken to me of learning the joys of the essence of nutmeg, myrrh, coconut oil, the woody balm of sandalwood, the aromatic sweet fragrance of rosemary, and the musky, earthy oil from the angelica root which he said would fill the holiest monk with lust undescribable."

Six times six oils? The number of combinations was beyond even Lord Phanomyong's quick mind.

"Besides, my Lord, in seeking to please my master, I have pumped out my master's seed only once this night. I am sure someone with the strength and virility of my Lord can come tenfold as many times in one evening."

Lord Phanomyong snorted with merriment at the fanciful idea and the boy's optimism. Ten times in one night? Even the most desirable of his concubines had not been able to achieve half that. Of course, none of his concubines nor any of the predecessors of the Chosen One had managed to do what this one had done this night. He laughed. Ten times in one night? Why not? If anyone could bring him such pleasure, this slender boy with almond-shaped eyes and smooth skin the colour of butterscotch could, and he would with agonizing slowness and after how many dry climaxes? Just the thought sent a shiver up the spine of the Fierce Tiger of the Jungle, a shiver of both delight and apprehension.

"And, my Lord," the boy said, drawing close so his face was a finger's breadth away from his Lord's and whispering softy, "there are other parts of a boy's body that can bring his master pleasure besides his fingers."

He said it with wide eyes and all the sincerity and solemnity of a boy sharing a great secret, for, for him, it was a great secret. Lord Phanomyong laughed with the boy's seriousness, and with the thought of those delights that awaited him, and his immense belly jiggled as he wrapped a large arm about the boy and drew him to his naked bosom. The boy laughed with him, his high alto blending with the deep bass of his Lord. Over and over they laughed with pure joy and thoughts of the days to come.

The guard standing outside the bedchamber of the Favourite Son of the Great God Xiu was perplexed. He had heard many sounds emanating from the other side of the ornate sliding partition to his Lord's private chamber, from cries of sheer ecstasy to cries of pain and dismay and shouts of anger, but never in all the years he had been assigned to stand guard outside the Lord's private bedchamber, had he heard such laughter.

Epilogue

Each year the royal collectors from Chiangmai, in their yellow robes and with their knotted counting cords, travelled across the land and collected the tithe of grain, coin, livestock, silk, or whatever else the village was most noted for in payment for services from their noble and benevolent Lord, Lord Boroma Phanomyong, Favoured Son of the Great God Xiu, Fierce Tiger of the Jungle, Defender of the People, and Master Over all That Is, Was and Will Be. Lord Phanomyong, however, no longer ventured out to collect the second tithe.

The Sands of Delight flowed many thousands of times, and at long last, the warrior-lord, in the twenty-seventh year of his reign, joined his noble ancestors. His son by his wife, the eldest of six by her and one of thirty-two sons sired by the Favourite Son of the Great God Xiu, became the new Lord of the Land of the Tiger Eye. The new Lord was as powerful as his sire and protected and cared for his people, but his nighttime pleasures were not the same as his sire's. Over time the Selection of the Chosen One became one of the many legends told by grandfathers around the evening fire, a custom never again to be practised in the Land of the Tiger Eye.

It is said that the Chosen One was sent back to the village where he'd been born, and which had prospered greatly for their gift to their Lord, and there he was known once again as Luan Ramayana, and there he lived with his mother and father and helped them in the rice paddies. At some time later, the date lost in the mists of time, it is said he established the Wat Pho of Nongkhai where he became known as Master Khàa and where he spent his remaining days in contemplation and study, and his evenings teaching the very best of the young novices the mysterious version of Nuad Bo-Rarn that he had learned from his mother's brother, a skill that is still taught to a chosen few each year in the Land of the Tiger Eye even to this day.